Out of the Forest and Into the Woods
by Aalon
Summary: Set in the AU created by A Different Road Taken, this story picks up two days after the end of that story. Kate Beckett has left the NYPD force behind her, but finds that her experience in law enforcement has well-prepared her for her new life in California.
1. Chapter 1

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 1**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

**A/N:** If you have not read A Different Road Taken, please do so first. That is the second story in this AU and begins two days after that story concludes. You are missing quite a bit if you read this without trying that one first.

_**Richard Castle's Residence in Sausalito, California, Jan 4, 2012, 8 p.m. PST **_

"Do you miss it," she asks him. Sometimes she thinks she can read him like a book. Other times – like now – his pages are blank to her. He's been staring at the old worn out coaster, twisting it between his fingers, for the past ten or so seconds – his mind a seemingly far away. The coaster from The Old Haunt brings heart-felt memories to her partner who sits on the sofa next to her. Some of those memories are very pleasant. Some are not.

Right now, she is still caught up in the euphoria of knee-jerk, off-the-cuff decision making at its finest. Picking up and moving to California – after a two-week visit and no official promise of commitment, i.e., a ring – well, this is very un-Beckett-like.

She recalls the grilling she got from Lanie Parish just a few nights prior, at the same Old Haunt that seems to be holding him captive at the moment, while the guys made a restroom visit. All three of them.

"_And they talk about women,"_ she mused at the time, smiling then. She smiles now as the images from that night return to her.

"Girl, I am sooo excited for you," Lanie had told her, talking fast as if she had the world to tell her best friend, and only the 90 or so seconds that the boys would be gone in which to tell it.

"I know, Lanie – this is so . . . so . . . it's just so –"

"So not you," Lanie laughed, and Kate had laughed with her. "So, what exactly did writer-boy say to twist your arm into running west?" she had asked.

"Nothing really," she had told Lanie, drawing a frown and a raised eyebrow from her friend. "We just had such a wonderful. . . a magical time out there. I learned a lot about Castle; I learned even more about myself. And even more about what he and I can be, together. There is so much love, Lanie. And he and I can do so much good for people who need us there."

Lanie had rolled her eyes, giving Kate a tiny, tiny small, but continued pursuing a different road.

"So, are you two committed to each other, are you engaged? Did he give you a ring that you are hiding from me?" she asked her. "C'mon, Kate, I know you! You don't up and do anything without hashing, and rehashing and then burning the hash browns to cinders before you move on anything."

"I know, Lanie – I _know_. I should be uncomfortable. I should be panicking," Kate agreed. "But you know what? You know what frightens me more than anything? I'm frightened that I am _not_ frightened. I'm frightened because I'm _not_ uncomfortable, because I'm _not_ panicking. This just really feels . . . right."

Lanie had thrown her head back in laughter, shaking the glass tumbler in her hand, listening to the ice cubes rattle back and forth. Whether it was the alcohol, the admission from Kate, or a combination of both wasn't clear, but the woman was caught in a serious fit of the giggles, leaving the three men just returning from the men's room to draw their own conclusions.

"Now I ask you, Javi," a slightly intoxicated Richard Castle had asked him, "Have you ever reduced Lanie to such lovely nonsense as this?" Esposito's response had been a short punch to the arm, as the table erupted in familiar laughter that had been going on for the past hour or so.

Kate's thoughts return from that night to the present moment now, as she watches Richard Castle idly fumble with the coaster.

"Earth to Castle," she says, since he has not answered her earlier question. "Rick?"

"Sorry, Kate," he tells her, his eyes snapping back to life, his head turning to face the beautiful brunette next to him. He gives her that sheepish smile that she has come to love.

"What are you thinking?" she asks.

He pauses for a few seconds, turning his attention back to the old coaster from his old bar back in New York. He is smiling when his gaze finally returns back to her.

"This coaster," he says, his emotions threatening to break through. "This coaster is a reminder to me of everything I dreamed of, but wondered if I would ever have," he tells her. "I had spent many a night, for the past year or more, either on a barstool at the bar, or in our booth in the back of that bar. More nights than you probably are aware of."

She doesn't interrupt. She allows him to continue, unfettered. Clearly there is something on his mind – and they have years of mis-steps, mis-communications, mis-understandings between them. She very much wants to hear what's on his mind right now, and does not want to interrupt his train of thought.

"Many of those nights . . . hell, most of those nights were spent wishing you and I were exactly where we are right now. Together."

The way he twists and bends the coaster, with just the fingers of one hand – the faraway sound of his voice. It is both heart-rending and fascinating to her. She reaches for his free right hand, and interlocks her fingers within his.

"More nights than not, I left that bar feeling defeated. I left that bar feeling unwanted. I left that bar feeling incomplete," he tells her, his eyes on her now. "I used to wonder what it would be like to . . ."

"To what, Castle?"

He sighs, and smiles softly, looking down at her fingers entwined in his.

"To hold your hand, like this," he smiles, then moves his gaze to her waist. "To wrap my arm around your waist."

His gaze moves up to her lips.

"To kiss your lips," he says with a smile. "To wake up next to you in the middle of the night, without worrying about you running. To make breakfast for you in the morning, knowing that it's just a normal day for us."

He stands, pulling her up to him, and walks toward the back patio door, her hand still locked with his. He places the coaster in his coat pocket and he opens the door and they step unto the redwood deck, walking toward the rail overlooking the wooded back yard below. The cool breeze from the woods below brings a scent of the forest. For a moment, he closes his eyes, allowing his nose to soak in the beauty of their surroundings. It's one of the things he loves most about his home here.

"I brought this coaster back with me . . ."

"Why, Rick? Why did you bring it here?" she asks him.

"To remind me of what could have been," he says, looking out into the darkness of the trees below. "You and I could still – very easily - be back in New York, doing that damnable dance we got so good at. We could still be denying who we are, and what we feel. We could still be . . . them."

She knows exactly how he feels, she understands exactly what he is saying. It's the same feeling she had on the charter jet back to New York just a few days ago.

Two weeks together. That was it. That's all it took. It happened that fast – yet it took four long years.

"I brought this coaster back, so I would never take you for granted," he tells her.

She wants to tell him that he would never do that. She wants to tell him that this is the last thing she is worried about. She opens her mouth to tell him, but he brings a finger up to her lips, asking for her silence as they stand arm in arm along the deck's railing.

"I brought this back so I wouldn't take you – and us – for granted when I'm angry at you; when you are angry at me; when you disappoint me; when I know I have disappointed you. I have this coaster to remind me that you didn't have to say 'yes', you could have said 'no'."

Her head rests against him, her eyes burning with tears – the good kind. Figures the man would still be so good with words, whether he is still writing or not.

"I have this coaster here to remind me that no matter what we are doing, no matter what is happening for us – we've come out of the darkness. I have this coaster here in California with me, to remind me that you could very easily still be in New York, without me."

They are silent for a moment, the only sound the wind rustling in the trees below and out from the deck. The wind adds to the cold California winter night. Not the New York kind of bitter cold, but cold nonetheless. It has its own kind of cold.

"It's funny," she tells him.

"Hmm?"

"It's funny. You had to leave New York for me to open my eyes to the truth."

He nods his head, smiling – it is a thankful smile, a smile of gratitude.

"And then I had to leave New York for you to re-open your eyes to me," she continues. "Is this a California thing?" she laughs, and he laughs with her.

"We know each other in New York for four years, we see each other almost every day, we work with each other, we save each other's lives who knows how many times –"

"Nine for me, eight for you," he tells her, with a smirk.

"Seriously, Castle – you kept count? And you expect me to believe that you're ahead?"

"Not important, Beckett," he tells her with a smile. "I believe you were discussing the wonderful journey you and I have taken to get to this moment."

She slugs him in the arm, then readjusts herself against his arm. He wraps her up again, protecting her against the cold.

"Four years in New York got us nowhere. Two weeks in California . . ."

"Not true, Kate. It's like the Stonecutter," he disagrees. "With your Euro-Russian background, you have to know that story," he tells her, and she smiles, nodding her head as she recites it for him.

"Jacob Riis, Danish American social reformer," she smiles, and closes her eyes, as if reading the quote on her closed eyelids.

"When nothing seems to help, I go look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow, it will split in two, and I know it was not that blow that did it . . ." she says

"But all that had gone before," they both say in unison, and break out in smiles together, as he pulls her in closer, tighter.

"You're right," she tells him. "It may seem like this all happened in just two short weeks," she says, now looking up at him again.

"But it was four years of knocking at this door, hammering away, that prepared us for those two weeks," he finishes.

He bends and kisses her softly. She tastes sweet, the hot chocolate from the house still on her breath. He reaches back into his pocket, and retrieves the coaster one more time.

"That's why I have the coaster," he says. "And that's why I can never stop being thankful that we are where we are, and not where we were. I know that's not very eloquent, but hey – I don't care. I have you."

"And all it took was leaving New York for California," she chuckles, knowing nothing could be further from the truth.

"Yeah, out of the forest and into the woods," he tells her.

"Not eloquent, you say?" she says playfully.

"Sometimes," he smiles.

Her phone buzzes, indicating a new incoming text. He sees in her eyes her hesitation. She doesn't want to break the moment. As he has said – after their four year dance, these moments are precious. She doesn't want them to end. Neither does he. But igniting a romance isn't the primary reason they are here, across the bay from San Francisco, instead of the east coast.

"Check it out," he tells her. "It might be important."

She reaches into her pocket, and retrieves her cell phone. Glancing down, she half smiles, wistfully.

"It is," she tells him, and he releases her, turning her so that her back is to him. Without thinking, she gracefully backs into him, drawing comfort from the closeness. He smiles at the natural intimacy they now share, wrapping his arms around her, placing his chin atop her head, his nostrils taking in the scent of her hair.

Four years of hammering away at the stone. Somewhere along the line, it finally cracked.

_Regina: Going to see my mom tomorrow. Wanna come with me?_

She smiles, and behind her, he smiles as he reads the text over her shoulder.

"Didn't take you long at all. I knew it wouldn't," he tells her. "Everything in your life, everything you have gone through, everything you have learned has prepared you for these moments that are ahead of you."

She nods her head, and lays it back against his chest, as she types out her response.

_Kate: Can't wait. What time?"_

**A/N: **So, Kate Beckett has left New York, and life as a police detective behind her, as she now embraces a new challenge. But as Castle has said, everything she has gone through and learned has prepared her for what is ahead – including her experiences as a detective in the Big Apple. As she will soon find out, it still will take more than a good heart and kind words to navigate some of these new waters. See you next chapter, hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 2**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**Camille Evangelista's Residence in San Francisco, California, Jan 5, 2012, 9:45 a.m. PST **_

Kate Beckett stands outside the door to the old two-story home on Carr Street, just off Highway 101. The home, built in the 1940's, sits just a couple of streets down the road from Third Street, which runs from the Bayview area just a few miles from the old Candlestick Park all the way uptown to Market Street in downtown San Francisco. Castle's Ferrari is parked in the front, on the narrow street. The closer she and Regina got to the young woman's mother's home, the more Kate began recalculating her decision to drive the flashy car to this older neighborhood.

The looks she and Regina Overstreet have received as they walked up the narrow stone steps to the front door are familiar to Kate. She's seen these looks walking into similar neighborhoods in New York - neighborhoods where those living there clearly see you as someone who doesn't belong. It's clear that the fact that the neighbors seem to recognize Regina is a good thing. But that doesn't stop a couple of the younger teenagers from venturing close to the sports car, whistling.

"_Cripes, this is going to be a short honeymoon period of I don't bring his car back in one piece,"_ she thinks to herself, then immediately discounts such a thought, smiling. _"Actually, who knows, Castle might find it funny, knowing him,"_ she thinks again as Regina knocks a second time on the door.

"Mom, come on, it's cold out here," the young woman yells into the door. Half black and half Hispanic, Regina's long black hair flows gently off her shoulders in the cool breeze. She notices Kate glancing back at the sports car and the curious onlookers, who now are very close.

"Best just to let them look, Kate," she tells her. "They will touch it, talk about it, and then they'll leave. That is, unless you give them a reason to stick around."

"Message received," Kate smiles, nodding, as she notices a woman – probably in her early fifties – come to the front bay window that juts out toward the street, to their left as they stand at the door. She wears a San Francisco Giants sweat shirt, with a gold chain and crucifix hanging atop her chest, a few inches under her neck. The woman smiles at Regina, a genuine smile from a mother happy to see her daughter. Her smile freezes when she sees the stranger Regina has brought with her.

A few seconds later, the old, heavy wooden door opens, inviting the two women into the small entry area. To the left is a dining area, maybe eight feet by ten feet. It leads further back into the house into a small kitchen. To the right sits a larger living area, brightly lit by the second and much larger bay window that allows the morning light to illuminate the room.

"Mama," Regina says with great affection, as her mother pulls her into a not gentle, but very much appreciated hug.

"Gina, my Gina," she begins. "Where have you been? I have been so worried. Josh has been so worried," she continues, and suddenly Kate's tightly-honed police senses are on high alert. She glances furtively into the living room and the small sitting room behind it, further back into the house. They seem to be alone in the house with Regina's mother. As she closes the door behind them, Kate risks a final glance outside to the street – this time not for Castle's car, but to see if there are any other cars that might be parked at this house. Not seeing any, she relaxes for a moment, shutting the door.

"Mama, I'm fine," Regina responds quickly, as she disengages from her mother. "And don't talk to me about Josh, Mama. We are done."

"He's your husband, Gina," her mother disagrees, shaking her voice. "He loves you."

Kate watches the family soap opera play out in front of her, and she cannot shake the feeling that this might not end well. She knows how reluctant Regina was to come and see her mother, especially now, so soon after she had left Josh. She had made her concerns known to Kate repeatedly back at the Castles, but Kate had continued to encourage her to reach out to her mother.

"Believe me, Regina," Kate had told her days ago, "you should make every attempt to stay connected to your mother. We never know how long we have with them."

Kate had relayed her mother's story to Regina as the two of them had sat in the grass field at the Castle's on New Year's Eve, watching the firework show. There was no hesitation in Kate's mind that meeting her mother now was a good idea, even if her mother wasn't fancy to the idea of her daughter picking up and leaving her abusive husband. Perhaps her mother would better understand just seeing the bruises above and under her daughter's eye – her dark face barely obscuring the offending bruises - and the scab growing on the beautiful young woman's lip.

She is now revisiting the wisdom of her own advice, as it is clear that the woman has overlooked these obvious facial disfigurements. Her mother speaks to Regina, looking directly at her daughter without ever once reaching out and touching that face, without once looking with compassion at the horror she has to know her daughter has faced.

"Mama, I had to leave," Regina tells her, now starting to lose her composure only a minute into the visit. "I couldn't stay another day, another second."

"Come on, baby girl, let's sit over here," her mother tells her. She glances at Kate again, this time acknowledging her presence in her home.

"Who is your friend?" she asks her daughter.

"This is Kate Beckett, Mama. She works at the safe place that I found. She's been helping me for these past few days."

"Hello, Mrs. Evangelista," Kate offers in greeting, extending her hand out to the older woman – who refuses it. She simply nods her head at Kate, and then looks back to her daughter.

"How does she help?" her mother says, glancing uncomfortably at her guest. "She tells you to leave your marriage? She tells you to leave your vows? No! If you have problems you come here – you come back home."

Kate opens her mouth to speak, but quickly – and wisely – decides against it. She is an outsider in this. Best to see how it plays out before inserting herself into the discussion. It's clear that her presence here is undesired, as is her daughter's decision to leave her husband.

"Mama, it wasn't safe there," Regina cries, tears now forming in her eyes, threatening to spill out, her slowly rising anger holding them at bay for the moment. "You weren't there! You didn't see what he did -"

"All I know is that you don't run the first time you have problems in marriage, baby," her mother interrupts, pleading with her. "It's not all good times, Gina. We have to take life's bad with the good." Her mother's sincere tone all but shouts her unwavering belief in the words she speaks.

Kate searches for her new friend's eyes, willing her – if she could – to glance her way, just for strength. This was a mistake. Perhaps it's too soon, or perhaps her mother's views will never change. But it is clear that her mother's stance is immovable. For a brief instant, she understands – for the first time – the sheer isolation that these women back at the Castles must feel. She understands now – for the first time – why they might opt to run to a safe house with strangers rather than run home to family.

She understands – for the first time it has become personal to her – why Castle has poured tens of millions of dollars – much of it his own – into this grand venture.

It all goes to hell as she sees the shadowy figure approach slowly from her left. Josh Overstreet appears from the kitchen. Evidently, the husband has been hiding in the back of the house, or perhaps downstairs. Either way, he looks marginally happy to see his wife, and far less happy to see one Kate Beckett.

Kate – for the first time since she has been here – regrets not having her gun. She is no longer a police officer, and she has yet to file the appropriate paperwork here in California to obtain a license to carry a firearm. She's going to have to diffuse this situation the old-fashioned way, and she mentally kicks herself for her lack of foresight.

"_Gonna have to take care of that, today, once I get us out of this," _she thinks to herself.

There is no question when Regina becomes aware of her husband's presence in the room, as she immediately jumps off the couch in fear, stepping toward Kate without thinking about it. She knows that Kate is a detective from – scratch that – she knows that Kate is an ex-detective from New York, specializing in homicide. She instinctively decides that the closer she is to the ex-cop, the better.

Josh Overstreet walks quickly toward both women, his intentions clear. He wants his wife back. Regina immediately stands behind Kate, who has now also risen out of her seat.

Kate, for her part, is taken aback with Josh's appearance. She chastises herself for her surprise. The man is dressed almost impeccably. He wears a dark grey suit, with a white shirt and a dark blue tie with a soft black pattern. He looks every bit the financial portfolio manager that he is. He's not what she expected to see, damn her.

"Uh . . . what exactly do you think a wife abuser looks like, Kate?" she remembers Dr. Samantha Peraza asking her at one of the sessions late in December. It's a mistake she won't make again.

She is casually reaches for her phone, and immediately opens her texting application and sends "911" to the text group named Emergency. The action takes her less than seven or eight seconds. Anyway, let him try to take her phone away . . .

Fortunately, Mike Monroe has insisted on a check-out policy and implemented a specific procedure. While it sounded somewhat draconian when he first told the women about it, Kate is very thankful for his foresight now. Anyone and everyone is free to go when and where they please – but they must check out, letting security know where they are going.

"And by 'where', I mean you need to leave an address and your phone number," Mike had told the group in that first session. "This is for your protection, in case something happens. In that case, all you have to do is send a 911 text to us. If you don't give us a specific address, then we will assume you are at the location you signed out to," he had continued, then giving them instructions on how to create the emergency text group.

Within seconds, she knows that the security team will place a 911 call to the emergency response teams in San Francisco, giving them Mrs. Evangelista's address on Carr Street. Help should be here within a few minutes.

"Who'd you call?" Josh asks Kate. He is very cordial, but Kate can sense the menace behind the words.

"_Oh yeah, you are a wolf, old boy,"_ she thinks to herself. _"You may look like a sheep, but you don't fool me."_

Kate glances back toward the door, calculating their best exit. No badge, no gun, no jurisdiction. Not having those little perks changes things considerably.

"I didn't _call _anyone," Kate smiles, emphasizing the word 'call'. She's not lying. She's just dodging a bit.

"Come back over here, Gina," her mother says, trying her best to offer a stern, parental tone. "This is a family thing."

"Yes, Regina – we are family," Josh agrees, his smile sincere in appearance. "Let's sit down and talk through things."

"_Oh, you're good,"_ Kate thinks to herself, reaching back to ensure that Regina stays standing right where she is – safely behind Kate.

"No, we'll stand, thank you," Kate says sweetly, glancing between Regina's mother and her husband, as he now eyes her a bit more warily.

"You should stay out of things that do not concern you, Miss . . ."

"Beckett," she tells him, still maintaining her smile. Delay this as long as possible. "Kate Beckett. And for now, Regina _is_ my business."

"Regina, stop playing around now," Overstreet tells her, his tone now slightly changing as he steps toward his wife – and Kate. The smile – the ever sincere, plastic smile – it is still in place. But his eyes have darkened a bit. Kate realizes that her short nails are digging into her palms. She's been tensed for the past minute or so without knowing it. She also smiles, realizing that her body has slightly coiled downward, anticipating a rapid movement.

He reaches – casually, without malice – for Regina, attempting to circumnavigate Kate. Not finding success, he finally shows a small amount of frustration. It is such a slight facial change that had Kate not been staring so intently at the man, she would have missed this transformation.

"You see what I mean, Mother," he says affectionately to Camille Evangelista, who has now taken a step backward herself. Although she speaks of staying the course and the importance of vows, the woman is no fool, and no stranger herself to an abusive relationship. She senses what is coming long before the moment arrives.

He reaches again for Regina, this time brushing Kate Beckett's arm along the way. Kate instinctively brushes his arm away, assessing her footing and surroundings.

He's roughly 6'1, so he is taller than her, and he seems to be of a good build underneath the suit. Probably works out multiple times a week at one of the local gyms. She won't underestimate this guy.

He takes a step backward, and Kate realizes he is just searching for his footing, as her casual swipe of his hand has set him slightly off balance.

"_Ok,"_ she smiles. _"This guy knows how to hit a woman, but he doesn't know how to fight."_

"Josh, please believe me when I say you do not want to do this," Kate warns. Her smile is now gone, all pretense of niceties behind her. "Regina, start walking toward the door," she tells her. Kate takes a slow step toward the door, then another, with her friend mirroring her steps behind her.

"Say goodbye to your mother, for now," Kate tells her, when suddenly the larger man strikes. He takes three quick steps – he's faster than she expected – and is upon her in seconds, swinging wildly with a right cross. She easily sidesteps him, and – in a crouch – swings her right leg low and fast in a lightning half-circle, catching him above the ankles, sending him airborne.

Camille Evangelista's screams are almost drowned out by Regina's, who cries not out of fear, but out of sadness for her mother. She did not want – or expect – to come into her mother's home – the home Regina grew up in – and cause any type of trouble.

Josh Overstreet hits the floor hard, his head bouncing off the old wood with a sharp, sickening thud. He moans, reaching for the back of his head, trying to pull himself into a sitting position, unsuccessfully. Kate instinctively reaches behind her back to pull out handcuffs that are no longer there.

"_Damn, I need to rethink this a bit,"_ she tells herself, as she speaks to the groggy man lying on the floor.

"Mr. Overstreet, please do not get up. This has gone far enough already, sir," Kate tells him, trying her best to maintain a form of composure. It's highly unlikely she's going to calm the man down now, not after sweeping his feet from under him like that. But she has to try. She cannot let this get any further out of hand. She's spent the last few days looking at her friend's face as they talked, and, needless to say, her face looks much better now than when Kate first saw it. She knows the damage this man is capable of inflicting when angry.

And he is angry right now.

He slowly makes his way back to his feet. Putting him back down again won't be a problem. Kate Beckett realizes this. However, putting him down without tearing up Regina's mother's house could be another thing. And as much as she wants to – needs to – protect the woman, Kate also is astute enough to realize that no one needs Regina going back to the Castles complex talking about how Kate rough-housed her husband and tore apart her mother's house – even if it is warranted and self-defense.

She also knows – she can sense it – that Regina is not ready to be a witness to this type of violence so soon after her own event.

He stumbles toward her, obviously still groggy from the hard hit to the head, but clearly raging now – he has dropped all appearances.

"You're going to be sorry, bitch," he says, bull rushing Kate. Kate could easily sidestep him again, but she feels Regina's presence directly behind her, and knows that if she steps aside, the man will run headfirst into his wife. So she takes to the floor, going as low as she can, rising up at the last second, body blocking the larger, heavier man upward and to the side. She is barely successful, and feels the strain in her shoulder with the effort.

"_Shit, I need to end this,"_ she realizes, and follows his backward motion toward the sofa behind him. She offers him a swift roundhouse kick to the head, watching the financial manager fall unconscious into the sofa. Kate is quickly upon him, ensuring he doesn't fall into the table lamp just a foot or so away.

The room is filled with the screams of Regina's mother, undone by the violence brought into her home – again. In the distance, Kate hears the police sirens, and sends a silent prayer that they are headed here. She glances back at Regina Overstreet, who simply watches – somewhat numbly – as the ex-detective pull herself away from the sofa.

"I'm so sorry, Regina," Kate tells her, genuinely. "I didn't –"

"No, don't be," Regina interrupts her, and quickly walks to her mother, trying to calm her down. "Mama, please don't cry, Mama," she tells her mother, guiding her to the large chair against the side wall. She pulls her mother into an embrace, knowing the memories the violence has brought back to the surface for her mother. She cries softly, the daughter suddenly becoming the parent, as she rocks her mother back and forth for a few minutes until her mother's sobs subside.

There is a knock at the door, and Kate moves quickly to answer the door. Seconds later, two uniformed SFPD officers are in the home, staring – eyebrows raised - at the larger, unconscious man laid out across the sofa in front of them.

The younger officer walks up to the sofa, and cannot hold down a smirking chuckle. "Do I want to know what happened to this fellow?" he asks, drawing a chuckle from his partner.

"Nothing funny here, officers," Kate tells them, her voice probably more harsh than she intends. "This is Mrs. Evangelista's house," she says, pointing to the older woman.

"Regina," she says, pointing to the younger woman, "is a resident of the Castles safe complex, which just opened a few weeks ago.

"I know of the place, ma'am," the older officer replies. "Do you work there?"

"Yes, I do," Kate tells him, taking out a business card that Richard Castle had provided for her just days ago. It's just another thing for her to be thankful for to her partner – her lover – right about now.

The officer takes the business card, and glances at it, nodding his head.

"Have any other identification-"

Already expecting the next question, Kate has already pulled out her New York driver's license from her purse.

"_Going to have to hurry and get a California license,"_ she realizes.

"New York, eh?"

"Yes. The Castles Complex is new, as you know, and I was brought in from New York to consult and counsel," she tells him. There is a lot of truth to the statement.

"So . . . what happened here?" he asks Kate, but Regina steps in to answer, still sitting and holding her mother.

"Ms. Beckett accompanied me here to my mother's house. I left my husband a week or so ago, and it was the first chance for me to come back and see my mom," she tells the officers. "And good thing she was here with me, because _he_ was here with my mother," she finishes, pointing to the still unconscious but slowly recovering man on the sofa.

"And he physically assaulted you again, here at your mother's house?" the officer asks, unable to hide his surprise.

"Well –" the young woman begins, but is interrupted now by Kate Beckett, who is putting her driver's license back into her wallet.

"He attempted to, but I handled the situation, officer," Kate says, matter-of-factly.

"You did, eh?" he responds, glancing back at a still unmoving Josh Overstreet on the sofa.

Kate merely nods. She knows the less she says the better. Cops can tend to get suspicious of too much talking.

"Is this true?" he asks Regina, who nods her head in agreement. He glances at the older woman, but her mother remains too distraught to speak at the moment.

"Well, we received a 911 call from the Castles Complex," the older officer tells them. "I assume you sent in the request to them?"

Kate nods, without saying anything further. She notices now, for the first time, the younger officer is on his radio set, as he stands next to Overstreet.

"Dispatch just confirmed from the Castles Complex, a Kate Beckett is indeed an on-site counselor for them."

"Exactly what kind of counseling do you do for the Castles, Ms. Beckett?" the older officer asks, not looking at Kate, but instead again glancing back at Overstreet on the sofa.

"Whatever if necessary," Kate responds.

"Fair enough," the older officer nods, walking over to the now awakening large man on the sofa. "Looks like Prince Charming is coming back to us," he says with a smile. "You won't mind coming down to the station to give us a statement, would you?"

"Not at all, officer," she says agreeably, "but if I could request – can we not have Regina be pulled into a police station right now? I'd say she's had enough –"

"I'm good, Kate," the younger woman says, now standing up, letting go of her mother who has finally calmed down enough, and is sitting back in the chair, eyeing the policemen in her home somewhat warily.

"I think we should make sure that Mr. –"

"Overstreet," Regina tells him, filling in the blank.

"Yes, Mr. Overstreet – I think we should make sure Mr. Overstreet leaves this residence safely," he finishes.

"Where is your precinct, officer?" Kate asks, and the younger officer responds by providing a card to her.

"I assume you can find this, Regina," Kate states, getting a nod of affirmation from the younger woman. "It's not too far from here," she tells her.

"We will be just a few minutes behind you," the older officer tells her, allowing Kate and Regina to leave the house. Regina takes a few quick steps to her mother, giving her another hug. Her mother's hug in return lacks the embrace of their initial welcome less than twenty minutes earlier. Her lack of enthusiasm is not lost on either Kate or Regina as the two women leave through the front door.

"I'm sorry, Regina," Kate tells her companion as they walk down the outdoor stone steps back to the street level, and to the sports car waiting for them.

"Don't be," Regina replies. "I told you, that's how she would react."

"I know you did," Kate tells her. "But at least you got to talk to her, to see her," she finishes, willing her mind to stay in the moment and not consider the family she herself has lost.

"Anyway," Regina tells her with a soft smile, that she cannot stop from growing. "It was nice to see him get a little comeuppance."

"A little comeuppance?" Kate smiles with her as she puts the car into gear.

"Navigate for me," Kate tells her. "Get us to the station."

_**Bayview Police Station in San Francisco, California, Jan 5, 2012, 10:30 a.m. PST **_

Kate Beckett and Regina Overstreet sit in the lobby area inside the precinct, awaiting the return of Officers Sloan and Diaw. While Regina is noticeably uncomfortable in these surroundings, she smiles as she recognizes that her companions' mood is exactly the opposite. Kate finds herself smiling, just breathing in the familiar scents and recognizing the familiar sounds of a precinct.

Hopefully, the two officers will be here momentarily, and she and Regina can get on their way. They should grab a bite to eat on the way back, since they never got to the meal part of their visit back at her mother's home. She smiles wistfully, knowing the disappointment the younger woman has, but also knowing that she has faced a small demon down this morning. Yeah, Regina had help, but still . . .

"Kate? Detective Kate Beckett?"

Kate turns toward the female voice that is calling her, clearly confused. She knows no one here, so who can be calling her? And referring to her as a detective, at that. Suddenly, she puts the voice and approaching face to a name, understanding the familiarity.

"Jenny?" she says brightly, finding the smiling face walking toward her.

The two women embrace tightly, smiling broadly at each other.

"Good heavens, how long has it been, Kate?" her friend asks.

"Since college, for certain," Kate responds. "The last time I saw you, you were proudly wearing our Stanford colors –"

"Still do," the woman interrupts, laughing. She glances at Regina, causing Kate to mock slap her forehead.

"I'm sorry, Regina," she tells her. "This is Jennifer Blackard, an old college friend of mine from . . . from a long time ago," she finishes, as both women break into laughter again.

"_Detective_ Jennifer Blackard," her friend corrects.

"Detective?" Kate responds, clearly surprised. "I didn't know that."

"Well, I know you are a detective," Jenny tells her. "Followed your exploits from afar, I have," she says, still smiling. "Went into police work because of you," she tells her, somewhat more somberly.

"When you left school, because of your mother," she says, and pauses, feeling a bit uncomfortable now for bringing it up.

"It's okay, Jen," Kate tells her. "It's okay. Go on."

"Well, when you left because of your mother, it was hard to watch one of my best friends leave – and for that specific reason. I just started looking into law enforcement just because of what had happened to you – to your family."

Kate's eyes mist, quickly, as she realizes that a friend she has not had contact with in over a decade has chosen the same profession as she – and for the exact same reason. Her old friend sees the emotion in Kate's eyes, and she pulls her back into a hug.

"Any, I'm ex-Detective Beckett now," Kate sniffs, slowly extracting herself after a few seconds. "I live here in the Bay Area now," and Jen steps back, clearly surprised and pleased with the news.

"You are kidding me!" she exclaims. "You left the force. And – what? You live here?"

"Let's just say that I found a new calling," she tells her. "I'm working out at the Castles across the bay in Sausalito –"

"That's right!" Jen says, realization now dawning on her. "Richard Castle built those safe homes over there – ex novelist – and . . ."

Her friend smiles even more broadly, as she half mock-slugs Kate in the shoulder.

"Oh – my – God. He brought Nikki –"

Kate stops her with a soft – but slightly harder – slug of her own.

"Don't say it, don't say it," she warns her. "Yes, I am here. Yes, we are together. And no, I am not a fictional cop anymore."

"Fictional _slutty_ cop," her friend laughs, emphasizing the adjective, and this actually draws a laugh from Regina, who quickly loses the smile after getting her first dose of a glare from Kate Beckett.

"It is so important that you stop talking, Jen," Kate warns again – her smile intact but her intent fully recognizable.

For the next few minutes, Kate and the detective catch up, waiting for the officers to arrive. Kate brings her up to speed on the Castles, on her role at the Castles, on what transpired at the Evangelista house.

"If you're going to help them out there, you're going to need to get a few licenses," Jen tells her. "You should start with a private investigator license, Kate."

"What?"

"It will give you the freedom to come and go with a little more latitude from the local police here," she tells her. "And you need a license to carry a firearm, a license to carry a concealed firearm –"

"A private investigator?" Kate asks, still processing her friend's earlier words, and wondering why she hasn't thought of this before.

"Sure," Jen tells her. "It would give you a chance to investigate any of these scenarios you face. A woman comes to your complex, you would have the authorization to go and investigate what happened, follow the leads . . . do what you do."

Kate is nodding, and she notices the smile on Regina's face, as the woman nods her head in agreement. "Would let you be completely legal, without worrying about ramifications like having to come down here to this precinct," she tells her.

"Climb out of your box a little, Kate," the detective tells her. Clearly, she knows Kate's tendencies well, and clearly those tendencies haven't changed much in the last ten-plus years.

"So often, when something abusive occurs, nothing happens to the man, to the abuser, assuming it is a man. More often than not, no charges are filed, no changes are made."

"Why not?" Kate asks, but she already has a hint of the answer.

"Well, believe it or not, sometimes the woman just doesn't want to file charges. She wants to make it work. She might even blame herself. Other times, she doesn't have the backing of her family, and if her family isn't going to back her, well . . ."

She leaves the thought unsaid, and Kate makes an effort not to glance at Regina Overstreet, who has grown quiet again.

"And finally, often Kate, if I'm a woman, maybe I don't want to bring a man in to investigate. Maybe I don't feel comfortable with that. It hasn't happened to me, so I can't say for sure. But I do know that having you – having a woman – a licensed woman – to uncover things is something that at least some women would see as a good thing, as a safe thing."

Kate smiles again, pulling her friend back into an embrace.

"Jen, you have no idea what you have just done," she says softly. In truth, she has been excited about her role with the Castles. She has been excited about counseling women, even though she really has no training for this. As Dr. Peraza had said, for now, she could be something that these women desperately need – a friend.

But in reality, she can be so much more. She can not only provide comfort for these women – but as Jennifer has helped her discover – she can help them find much more than comfort.

Perhaps she can help them find a little justice – and closure.

**A/N: **Difficult topic, I know. And I know that some of you may find the entire lack of support from Camille Evangelista to her daughter to be totally unrealistic. Being a bit transparent, I will only say that I have been married to my wife for twenty years this month. She left an abusive marriage over twenty-four years ago, and the reaction of her parents was much like what you read in this chapter. Her parents were convinced that she should stay, and do all she could to make it work, to keep those vows 'for better or for worse'. Fortunately, my wife has a "you hit me once and I am gone" policy. Anyway, abused women often lack the support they need from the most obvious place you would think they would get it from: their parents.

Thanks for reading. More chapters to this story are coming soon. But needless to say, Kate being licensed to be able to investigate abusive situations while Castle provides a safe haven for those going through them is going to open our favorite couple to some interesting cases.


	3. Chapter 3

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 3**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**The Castle's Safe Complex in Sausalito, California, Jan 16, 2012, 9:00 a.m. PST **_

Kate Beckett stands in the doorway of the administrative building, looking out at the expansive driveway that approaches from the security gate just down the hill from the building. The dark gold and tan SUV approaches slowly, and Kate imagines the initial thoughts running through her friend's mind as she gets her first glimpse of the Castle's Complex.

Detective Jennifer Blackard sits behind the wheel of the SUV, guiding it along the winding road towards the administration building the security guard has pointed her towards. She smiles as she sees the standing form of her old college friend, waiting for her, now stepping out from the doorway of the building. She marvels at the sight. Gone is the gangly, smart but sassy party animal she knew from their days together at Stanford University. In its place is a still-smart but matured, focused animal of a very different kind. She had idly noted back at the station just over a week ago that she would not like to be on the other end of a Kate Beckett stare. Since that time she has been looking to reconnect with Kate, for two reasons.

One – she is just jazzed about spending time this weekend with an old, old friend.

Two – she is more than intrigued by the notion of safe houses in the woods, as they have been called by the press. She's curious to see what all the fuss is about, as she knows how the press can exaggerate things. She's seen safe houses before. Why should an ex-writer get all the notoriety – and publicity – for building something that – as far as she knows – already exists in multiple forms throughout the city. As she has made her way off 101 toward the campus grounds, she has gotten her answer.

She pulls the vehicle to a stop, and quickly hops out, as Kate makes her way to her. A quick embrace, and Kate pulls away, smiling.

"Glad you could make it, Jen," Kate tells her. "Pretty impressive place, eh?"

"Impressive isn't even the word for this, Kate," Jennifer tells her, shaking her head in wonder, and feeling just a tad guilty about her earlier misgivings. "I literally do not have the words right now."

"Yeah, I had the same reaction my first time here," Kate says, recalling her initial visit to the complex.

"This is _so_ not what I was expecting," Jennifer continues, as she walks parallel to the building, away from Kate, along a pathway that starts to wind toward the smaller buildings which house the women. Kate falls in alongside her, smiling at her friend who does not wait for an invitation or encouragement before heading deeper into the grounds, on her own tour.

They approach the first safe building as a young woman opens the door to her home, and steps out into the brisk morning with her small son in tow. The bruises along the woman's cheek are clearly visible at this distance, and it immediately reminds Jennifer Blackard just what this place has been built for. She glances out at the other buildings, and the woods behind them, before returning her gaze to the young woman, who simply nods at the two women walking towards the structures.

"Grace," Kate nods in greeting, and then continues onward with Jennifer.

The two women walk in relative silence for the next minute or so, winding between the myriad of housing buildings before stepping off the first path and walking toward the trees. Jennifer is speechless, completely taken aback with the beauty, the grandeur of what has been built here. She struggles briefly with the juxtaposition of the quiet, calm, beautiful and pristine setting being the backdrop for women with bruises and abrasions and tears, with fearful, darting eyes forged in a violent backdrop of a relationship gone bad. None of this is lost on her, and she feels her heart tugging, hard and unexpected. As a detective, as a cop, she has seen abusive situations – and worse – of course. But somehow, being here, standing here, walking here among these structures and the women who slowly are making their way out into the morning – somehow it has personalized things for her. She doesn't know a single woman here except for Kate, yet she seems to know each of them. She doesn't know a single name except for Kate, yet she feels she knows each of them intimately.

Kate, for her part, knows full well the illogical conflict raging inside Jennifer's mind right now. She felt the same battle raging her first time here, and Jordan has told her that she, too, felt the same during her initial introduction to the campus. There is just something about the place – and the people here.

"You're struggling with how this seems so unknown, yet so familiar," Kate smiles as her, and her smile broadens into a laugh as the San Francisco detective quickly snaps her head toward Kate in confusion.

"What the hell - are you a mind reader now, too?" Jennifer asks her, with wide eyes.

"Something like that," Kate smiles, and she waits for a two-count before continuing. "No, actually, I was just looking at you and remembering my first time here. It seems to be a common reaction, a common theme that many of us experience."

"It's just so beautiful," Jennifer says softly. "When you hear about safe houses, or homeless shelters, or anything like that – _this_ is just not what you picture."

"Castle wanted to build something new – something different," Kate tells her. "He believes – with all that he is – that building the same old structure would yield the same old result. He wants real, true new beginnings for these women."

"Well, mission accomplished, I can tell you that," her friend says, admiringly. "So, where _is_ the founder of this place anyway? I hear you have his ear, so to speak," she says, laughing, and Kate joins her in their laughter together.

"We have our moments," Kate agrees. "He's back further in the woods. It's becoming a Saturday morning ritual for him to visit the Z."

"The Z?" Jennifer asks.

"That's what he calls it. I guess what we all will call it," Kate tells her, grabbing her arm to guide her further into the forest. "C'mon, I'll show you."

They walk in silence for another two or three hundred yards, as the trees canopy the early morning sky above them. They find him deep in the woods toward the western front of the Castles campus. They have followed the westward path to a small opening that apparently has been recently cleared. As they approach the founder of the campus, Kate quickly takes in the scene in front of her, and brings their walking to a halt. She nods her head absently, recalling again the purpose for which this area has been cleared.

Kate and Jennifer stand firm, stalled about fifteen yards from the founder of the campus.

Richard Castle kneels on one knee in front of a large stone structure, gently moving the loose dirt around new flowers he has planted. The giant rock structure rises from the ground, some eight feet in the air, just a couple of feet above his head if her were standing. A wooden plank, roughly two feet by three feet – and about four inches thick, has been placed into the stone. Castle had commissioned an artist to carve a message and a few images into the plank. The curious melding of jagged rock and wood reaches upward toward the skies. The inscription on the stone tells the story Castle wants known.

_For Penny – whose courage remains the foundation of these Castles_

Kate hangs back, for another few seconds, giving him the solitude she knows he needs. If he had wanted company, he would have asked her to come with him. She walks up to him, now merely four or five feet behind him. She sees his head slightly turn, indicating his awareness of her presence – or at least indicating his awareness that he is no longer alone. He pulls himself up, standing now in front of the memorial structure, but remains facing it, his back to her. She waves for Jennifer to join her, and waits for her friend to catch up.

"Penny Zimmerman," Kate whispers to her, relating the story of the unfortunate woman who was killed weeks ago while trying to make her way to the Castles.

"He built her a memorial?" Jennifer asks.

"Sort of," Kate says with sadness. "She's buried under that large stone."

The expression Jennifer gives her is almost funny – almost. And Kate agrees – her friend does not have to voice the thought – that it may or may not be the wisest of moves to actually bury someone in a place you are trying to use to give them hope. But she knows how important this was to Castle. Penny Zimmerman had no other family. Both parents were dead, and she was a lone sibling. There was no one to call, no one to retrieve her body. It was a quick decision for Castle to have her body brought – and buried – here, where it would serve as a constant reminder to him. And as he has said, a reminder to the women who do make it to the Castles of what they just possibly avoided.

She gives him another ten or so seconds before finally approaching. She pulls up alongside him, standing shoulder to shoulder, not saying a word. Jennifer stands next to her. She has learned over the past week to leave Richard Castle to his thoughts when he is here at this spot. He's told her that visiting this area will be a weekly thing for him, at a minimum.

It is reminder to him why he has built this place – a reminder to him that without this place, someone could literally die; that someone _has_ died trying to get here.

More than this, however, it is also a reminder to him – and to the entire staff – that they must constantly revisit ideas, processes and procedures. It is a reminder that they don't have all of the answers, and must be ever diligent to change when change is needed.

Another minute passes, and he turns to his right, facing Kate, and only now realizing that the two of them are not alone.

"Who's your friend?" he asks, forgetting momentarily that Kate has already told him that her old college friend – now a SFPD detective – would be visiting today. He catches himself immediately, reaching his hand out to the woman who stands next to Kate.

"Never mind, I remember now," he says. "Richard Castle. You must be –"

"Detective Jennifer Blackard," she says, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Castle."

"Nope – pleasure is mine," he tells her, releasing her hand and replacing it with Kate's.

"This is quite an experience you have created, Mr. Castle," she tells him, glancing around at the natural beauty that surrounds them, and recalling the architecture of the buildings through the forest behind them.

"Rick," he corrects her. "And thank you. It's an evolution – ever changing," and the irony of his words, given the fact that the place is barely open not even a full month yet, is not lost on him.

They begin walking back out of the small clearing, toward the path to return to the building area of the campus. Castle and Kate walk hand-in-hand, while Jennifer walks alongside Kate.

"Kate told me about Penny Zimmerman, Rick," she begins, but somehow doesn't find the words to follow up her thoughts. Kate, sensing her awkwardness, steps in.

"I hope you didn't mind –" Kate begins to tell him, almost apologetically, but he cuts her off, with a wave of his hand.

"It was an early reminder – to all of us – that what we are doing here is far more important than just trees, and greenery, and brick and walls," he says out loud, and she feels Castle squeeze her hand more tightly.

"You build a campus, you build nice homes, and forget the simple, unavoidable fact that getting these women from where _they_ are to where _we_ are might just be the hardest journey of all," he muses out loud again, to neither woman in particular. "Just getting them from Point A to Point B isn't a given. We always have to be looking to learn, looking to make improvements to what we do here."

He stops, and turns back toward the peaceful clearing they have just left, pointing back at the rock structure behind them. Both women turn to look.

"That's why _that_ is there. Why _she_ is here. To remind me. To remind me to keep thinking out of the box."

Without another word, he starts forward again, back towards the buildings, with Kate and Jennifer alongside him.

"Gonna give her the grand tour?" he asks Kate, as he glances at her friend with a small smile.

"Yes. Want to join us?"

"No – I think I will go visit Samantha. She stayed overnight last night in her guest quarters. Seems little Seth was having some problems last night."

"I didn't know," Kate tells him.

"Me either. She was staying late anyway and decided to just sleep here," Castle tells her. He is ever grateful for Samantha . . . and for Kate . . . and for Mike, and Lindy, and Dawn and Colin. He thinks about Jordan Shaw for a moment, and smiles as he considers all of his friends who have left their old lives behind in one fashion or another – permanently or temporarily – to join his crusade.

A few minutes later, they find themselves back in the front area of the campus, walking off the path toward the administrative building. Kate and Jennifer prepare to break off, as Kate wants to show Jennifer what an actual home looks like here, when all three turn their attention upward to the skies at the sound above.

A helicopter has made its way here through the opening of the trees and is landing in the clearing next to the front guard gate. Construction on the helipad was completed just a couple of days ago. Jennifer looks in amazement at Castle, who is walking towards the now landing chopper.

"One of the recent improvements that Castle spoke about," Kate tells her as the women watch the chopper land, and the familiar form of Lindy Matthews exits the structure. She holds her hand out, guiding a young woman out of the helicopter, and both women duck as they walk toward Castle as the blades of the air vehicle wind down. "After Penny, we decided to make sure we had a way to get in quickly to pick someone up if they felt the need."

Jennifer shakes her head in amazement. "This has to cost a lot of money, Kate. I mean, _a lot_ of money."

"Yeah, it does," and Kate leaves it at that. "C'mon, let me show you around," she says, walking the two of them toward one of the homes.

Behind them, at the front gate, Richard Castle extends a hand out to his newest guest.

"Rick, this is Gretchen Harper, from the Mission district in the city," Lindy tells him.

Gretchen slowly takes the hand that Castle has offered her. He sees the fear in her eyes, and he shudders as he notices no bruises, no abrasions, no cuts on her face or arms. A few weeks ago, that would have told him that she is probably okay, and has gotten out in time. Today? Today he realizes that her scars may – best case – be under her blouse, or perhaps her pants. Worst case – her scars run far deeper than that.

"Welcome home, Gretchen," he tells her. "Let's go get you settled in."

He releases the young woman's hand, allowing Lindy to guide her toward the administration building to get her registered and checked in. He glances at Lindy who quickly shakes her head from side to side, mouthing the words 'not now' and points his attention back to Mike in the helicopter.

He nods in saddened understanding, then walks toward Mike who has just powered the chopper down.

"Problems?" he asks his security chief and pilot.

"You could say that," Mike tells him. "Where is Kate?"

"She's giving a friend a tour of the campus – they're in one of the homes right now."

"Think we might want her to cut it short - let's get her to the admin center. We need her to look into this one, Rick," Mike says.

"What's the problem?" Castle asks, his senses heightened from the tone of his friend's remarks.

"Gretchen Harper, 24 years old, lives with her husband Mark. We have her safe and sound now, as you see," he says, pointing at the retreating woman who walks alongside Lindy toward the administration building.

"She has a younger sister, Rachel, aged 15, who slept over with a friend last night. We were able to grab Gretchen at the hospital, which allowed us to land at their helipad. But her sister is unaccounted for."

"What do you mean unaccounted for?"

"Gretchen tried to call her but didn't get an answer. Then she called the family where Rachel stayed last night. They told her that Mark had just picked her up a few minutes before hand."

"Shit," is the only response Castle can muster.

"Yeah, that it is," adds Mike Monroe, as he pulls up Kate's contact information in his cell phone and punches SEND, walking up to the admin building with his boss.

Kate's phone rings only once before she answers it. She has only been here roughly a month, but she quickly learned that there are two ring tones you want to answer right away, and those come from Mike Monroe and whoever is manning the front gate at any time. Mike's phone calls don't tend to be of the "Hey Kate, how are you doing" variety.

"Hold on, Jen," she mutters, clicking ANSWER.

"Hey Mike."

"Kate. Sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation that your experience – and your new status – is going to help with," he tells her.

"Where are you?"

"Twenty yards from the admin building."

"I'm on my way," she tells him. "I'm sorry to cut this short, Jen, but –"

"No, no worries, I understand," her friend replies – and then reconsiders quickly. "Hey . . . mind if I tag along?"

"Not at all – no idea what is up, but Mike never calls just to say hello."

Five minutes later, both women walk into the administration building through the back entrance, closest to the home they have just left. Kate walks – with Jen following – into the large kitchen and dining area where she sees Castle Mike and LIndy already sitting, waiting for her. She glances around, looking for the young woman that she had seen exit the helicopter.

"Over with Miranda, registering," Lindy tells her, knowing what Kate was thinking.

Kate nods her head, and then sits at the table with the others, as she makes a quick introduction.

"This is an old friend of mine, Jennifer Blackard, detective with the San Francisco Police Department," she tells them. "What do we have?"

"A bit of a mess, but one you might enjoy from what I hear," Mike offers, and Lindy chuckles under her breath, already envisioning the experience their newest member is likely to share with one Mark Harper.


	4. Chapter 4

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 4**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**The Castle's Safe Complex in Sausalito, California, Jan 16, 2012, 10:05 a.m. PST **_

The Ferrari's engine purrs, as Castle guns it to life, waiting for Kate Beckett. They have an appointment in the city with John O'Connell High School in the Mission District, where young Rachel Harper – on most days - attends school. But not today.

Kate stands in the doorway with Detective Jennifer Blackard and one Gretchen Harper. Gretchen has completed her registration at the complex, and was being led to her new temporary home by Dawn Harrison, when Dawn noticed the meeting in the admin office breaking up. Lindy had texted her and told her of the plans being laid out, and between Lindy's texts and the limited information Dawn had pulled out of a shell-shocked Gretchen, a story had formed.

Knowing that the team was planning to find and return young Rachel Harper to her older sister, Dawn has decided to bring the young woman over to meet the team – and give the woman a bit of hope, as the woman has given her – and subsequently, the team – some much-needed information.

Kate is the first to see their newest occupant walking toward them inside the administration building with Dawn, and breaks away from the others to speak with the woman.

"Call me when you get there," Jennifer Blackard tells her, as she begins walking toward her SUV and throws Castle a nod and a smile as well. She, too, is, is headed into the city, on her own assignment. Although not in necessarily her jurisdiction, today is her day off. Spending it helping an old friend is as good a way to spend a day off as any other.

Kate reaches Gretchen, and extends her hand in greeting. Not surprisingly, Gretchen is still deep inside her shell, and does not offer her own hand. Undeterred, Kate takes one extra step and pulls the woman into a soft, gentle embrace, placing her lips near the woman' ear.

"I'm going to find her," she whispers into Gretchen's ear. "I want you to go to your new home, and try to relax, try to settle in. But I promise you, I will not be back until I find Rachel and bring her safely to you."

She pulls back, so the woman can look into her eyes, and see the commitment. Kate is new to this, but she is not new to victims. She knows she can't give this woman fluff, and she is fully committed to this promise.

"Nod if you understand me, Gretchen," Kate says, somewhat harshly. She doesn't want to take an aggressive tone. At the same time, she knows that in a few minutes, Gretchen is going to be all alone in her new home, new surroundings . . . without her teenage sister, who could be anywhere right now, and definitely in harm's way. The guilt, the grief, the sadness – she knows what is waiting for Gretchen in her new home. So she wants the last thing Gretchen sees before she gets to her home is the fierceness, the commitment, the promise in Kate's eyes. She has no idea if this is going to take hours or days or weeks. She only knows she is going to find the young girl.

Gretchen nods her head slowly, recognition sparking in her eyes. And something else, that Kate cannot place.

Regardless, it's enough for now for Kate, who doesn't bother to say goodbye. She gives the woman a final squeeze, and instead heads straight for the sports car, and a quick trip to the Mission District. Dawn interrupts her, jogging with her down the pathway to Castle, and the waiting car.

"Something you should know, Kate," Dawn tells her, falling in line with her as they jog to the car. "I asked Gretchen how she got to the hospital. It's a good ten blocks from her house. She said her husband dropped her off."

Kate stops in her tracks, roughly ten yards or so from the car.

"You coming?" Castle asks, a bit on edge. Time is wasting for the young girl. Time they don't have. Images of Penny Zimmerman rush through his head. If only they could have gotten to her minutes earlier. Just a few minutes.

Minutes count.

"C'mon Kate," he yells, a bit louder now, anxiously.

"Just a minute, babe," she yells back, briefly giving him the palm of her hand. She turns back to Dawn, who is standing beside her.

"_He_ brought her to the hospital?" she asks, clearly surprised and confused by this new information.

"Yes. According to Gretchen, they argued, he hit her four or five times. All in the stomach and the chest."

"Bastard," Kate hisses.

"Agree," Dawn says quietly. "Makes you search for the bruises – and you can go anywhere in public and no one is the wiser," she says, and Kate nods in agreement.

"But you _do_ have to wonder what kind of man beats his wife, and then calmly picks her up, carries her to the car, drives her to the hospital, and drops her off at the front door, then drives off," Dawn finishes.

"_That's_ what she says happened?" Kate asked, still trying to put this together.

"That's what she says happened," Dawn repeats as she begins walking back to the administration building, but turns back to give Kate a few final words.

"Lindy and Mike will be in the chopper in a few minutes. They will stay airborne until you give them further instructions.

Kate nods, and walks the final few steps to Castle's waiting Ferrari, and slides in. Seconds later, the car is roaring down the driveway towards the front gate, which is swinging open in answer to Castle's remote control. He notices the troubled look on her face immediately.

"Talk to me," he says softly as he guns the car through the iron gates.

"I'm not sure . . ."

"Start at the beginning. What did Dawn say to you?"

She smiles at how he picks things up so quickly. He always did – back in New York at the 12th. She idly thinks of her friends back at the precinct, before dismissing them out of her mind.

"Mark Harper beat his wife up this morning," she tells him.

"That's not news," he tells her.

"Then he picked her up off the floor, calmly carried her to their car, and drove her to the hospital."

She stops talking, noticing Castle's head cock slightly to one side. "Yeah," she says, allowing him a few seconds to process the information, as she had to.

"Once they got to the hospital, he got out, carried her to front lobby, and dropped her on the ground. He got back into the car and drove off."

Castle is quiet, focusing on the sharp bends in the road, extending from Muir Woods, for now, processing what he has just heard.

"Then he goes to the family where Rachel is staying –", he soon adds, still staring at the road ahead.

"The Blankenship's," Kate interrupts.

"Who?" he asks.

"The family. Their name is the Blankenship's," she tells him.

"Okay, he goes to the Blankenship house and picks up Rachel," Castle continues, as they drive through the wooded area heading toward 101 South and the Golden Gate Bridge, which will take them into the city.

"Only he doesn't take her to school," Kate continues, as they join their thoughts together – as they have always done.

"This is familiar – you and I," he smiles. She takes his free right hand, allowing him to drive with his left, and interlocks her fingers with his.

"I didn't realize exactly how much I missed this – missed working with you, until this very moment, Castle."

"An odd thing to say, given the fact that you've been living with me, sleeping with me, eating with me – for the past month," he smiles.

"Don't get me wrong. All of that is new for us, Castle, and I love it. I wouldn't trade it for anything. But you and I began all of this that we have today – we began all of this by _working_ together – and we haven't really done this – head off to work a case together – for over half a year."

Castle smiles, and for a moment he and his passenger are silent – both lost in memories of cases worked, cases solved, victims avenged, for the past four years until last summer.

"Yeah, I like working with you, too, ex-Detective Beckett," he smiles.

"That's Kate Beckett, Private Investigator, to you," she returns, smiling herself.

He laughs, squeezing her hand tightly, then just as quickly, returns the conversation to their original topic.

"He beats her up, drops her at the hospital, goes and grabs her sister, and takes off with her," he says, replaying their conversation.

She falls right in line, without missing a beat.

"Almost as if he had –"

"Planned it all along," he says, joining her. They both chuckle, and she finds her head falling onto his shoulder, taking comfort and solace in the fact that even a six-month plus separation, facing two different oceans – none of that cut the wire on the connection they still share.

"That sheds a very different light on things, Rick," she tells him, her head still resting on his shoulder as he drives. She gazes upward at the beautiful red-orange metal frame of the bridge above them, dropping her sunglasses just below her eyes so she can take in the true color of the majestic bridge.

"That it does, Kate," he agrees, retrieving his arm from her shoulder and placing a second hand on the steering wheel. "It changes things considerably."

"First of all, he's not going to be at his home," she says, starting to count off possibilities.

"But we should still have Jennifer check it out, as we originally planned," he states.

"He won't be at work today," she says, undeterred.

"True," he agrees, "but we still will have to check it out. Talk to a few of his fellow employees and see what we might learn," he thinks aloud.

"See if he has any vacation homes close by," she chimes in, and then quickly pops her head up off of his shoulder, and grabs her cell phone from her shoulder bag.

"Just a sec," she says to him, punching up the number. A couple of rings, later and Detective Jennifer Blackard answers.

"What's up, Kate?" the detective asks her.

"You're on your way to the Harper home, correct?" Kate asks.

"Yep –Change of plans?"

"No, no, but an additional favor," Kate tells her.

"Shoot," Jennifer replies, already across the bridge, couple of miles ahead of them, in the city driving toward the Harper home.

"Can you put the airports on alert, to be on the lookout for Mark and Rachel Harper?" Kate asks her. "It's possible he is going to try to make a run for it."

"I can do you better than that," Jennifer tells her. "I've already put out an Amber Alert, as we discussed. That will ensure that the highway patrols are looking for their car, and we will get Rachel's picture to SFO, San Jose and the Oakland airports. What's up?"

"Castle and I don't think this was a routine, spontaneous event this morning. We believe Mark Harper has been planning this – perhaps for some time."

"Then let's rethink things for a moment," Jennifer tells her.

"We already are, Jen," Kate replies.

"Doesn't make a lot of sense for you to go to the school then," Jen tell her, as Kate puts the call on speakerphone, so Castle can listen in and comment as well.

"Agree," Castle chimes in. "We already know she isn't there, and they've agreed to call us if she shows up."

"They probably aren't at his house, but I still need to check it out," Jen says.

"Can you find out if he has any relatives close by?" Kate asks her, and makes up her mind as to their new destination. "We are headed to the Blankenship house," she says, nudging Castle, who makes a quick course re-calculation on the fly.

"We should be there in fifteen minutes," he tells the two women.

"I will check on relatives, and find out what leads we get from the Amber Alert. And one other thing," Jennifer adds, almost as an afterthought. "How did Rachel get Mark Harper's last name? Did he adopt her? And if so, why?"

Both Castle and Beckett remain silent, considering this new question.

"Yeah, makes me wonder, also," Jennifer says, clicking off.

Kate puts her phone away, and looks toward Castle, who is focused on changing lanes to hop on to Marina Blvd, heading towards Van Ness Avenue. They begin passing the large, bay-front homes and Kate finds herself taking in the unique décor and surroundings of the pristine Marina area.

"Remind me what we know about the Blankenship family," Castle says, feeling her eyes on him. Kate takes her phone back out, pulling up her notes. As she does, Castle finds himself lost in thought at how things have turned out in the past month for his project. They have close to eighty families there now, all in one month. He finds this completely stunning. The women are adapting well, the staff is handling things wonderfully. With the exception of Penny Zimmerman, and now Rachel Harper, things could not have gone better for the first month.

And then there is the woman seated next to him.

The fact that they are finally – finally – together is something he finds himself giving thanks for every morning and every evening. He doesn't kid himself - he knows there is much work still ahead on that front. He knows that he and Kate are still swimming in a honeymoon period of sorts. Everything is wonderful. Waking up together is still new. Sleeping together is still fresh and exciting. Just being able to walk – or drive – and hold hands is something worth celebrating.

He knows, however, they have much to discuss. Her lie is far behind them. Her willingness to lie so directly – and for so long – is not. And he, the man of two failed marriages and a score of bedded women in his past, he is not exactly the poster boy for successful relationships. So yeah, both of them have skeletons in their past. But have they learned from their past mistakes? Have they learned anything at all from the mistakes that sucked the life out of them, leaving nothing but those skeletons? Or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes again – with each other?

They have much to talk about, when the time is right. Personal stuff.

But work?

Couldn't be better.

And an added plus - her new status as a private investigator is already proving to be far more beneficial than Richard Castle might have guessed. Not having a PI on staff limits their jurisdiction – and what they can legally do – off campus, away from the Castles Complex. _With_ a PI? Well, now they have the means to investigate what happens in these domestic cases, what caused them. Now they have the means to really impact not only the battered woman who comes to them, but the battering man as well. Beckett can walk into work places, schools, restaurants – virtually anywhere as long as it can be shown to be potentially relevant to a case – and ask questions, get information, and – knowing Kate – get a little physical if need be.

Like now. Without Kate, investigating Gretchen's husband, searching for Rachel – these are things that they could not do, legally. They'd have to leave it to the police. With Kate?

He smiles, as Kate starts rattling off information on the Blankenship family.

"Mara Blankenship has already headed to work this morning – she works at one of the tourist booking shops down at Fisherman's Wharf. We can check that out later, if necessary."

"I think that would be a good idea, regardless of how the conversation with the husband goes," he adds.

"Agree. Jimmy Blankenship, her husband, works the late shift, driving for MUNI, the local city transportation department."

"Bus driver?" Castle asks, and for a second, his childhood dream of driving a city bus assaults his senses yet again. Quickly, he pushes the thoughts away, smiling though.

"Jimmy Blankenship told us to come when we can - he can still get a few hours of shut eye before heading to work in the early evening. Asked if we could get there before noon. I originally told him that would be a problem, since we were headed to the school, first."

"Call him, let him know we are on our way," Castle says, having turned right onto Van Ness Avenue off Marina Blvd. "We're not far from California, now."

Kate begins dialing, then stops, and puts her phone away. She catches Castle raising his eyebrows, questioningly.

"A hunch, babe," she tells him, and is rewarded with a smile and a nod of the head. _"Why did we wait so long?" _she thinks to herself, not for the first time today. She finds it is a question she asks herself daily now.

They grow quiet together as he speeds the car down Van Ness toward California Street, and the Blankenship home. She idly wonders – yet again – how they have managed to move past her lie so effectively. Talking with Samantha Peraza and Tom Shaw had been cathartic for certain. But it had also demonstrated to her how fortunate she is. Putting herself into Castle's position, she had wondered how she would have reacted if she had expressed her love for him – under any circumstances – only to find him feigning memory loss.

"_Not my finest moment," _she thinks to herself, and she cannot help the tears that begin to mist her eyes. She wonders how long she will carry this burden, this guilt, and decides she probably deserves it.

Castle notices the quiet, and glances at his partner next to him, recognizing both the tears welling in her eyes, and the likely reason. She's been beating herself up about this for the past two weeks now, since they got back from New York. He decides – then and there – that a few scheduled conversations with Samantha are in order for his new private investigator. After all, what's the use of having a world-class psychologist on site if you don't use her, right?

"Kate," he begins, glancing at her again. His tone tells her she's been caught.

"I'm sorry, Rick. It's just . . . sometimes where we are . . . is just too much for me. I don't deserve it. Not after what I did. I deserve –"

Fortunately, he cuts her off in mid-sentence.

"It's pretty important you stop talking right now, Beckett, because you're about to say something profoundly stupid," he tells her, trying to keep a smile on his face, and barely succeeding.

"You saying you deserve anything negative, you saying you deserve the guilt I know you are still feeling – babe, it's no different than the women we are trying to help thinking they deserve what they are getting. Can't you see that?"

Her non-committal face tells him she's not buying it. Not yet. And they have had this conversation a couple of times this month already. He tries a different approach.

"Kate – if Regina Overstreet sat down with you and told you she felt guilty about something she had said to her husband, and then if she told you she deserved what he dished out to her . . . Kate, what would you tell her?"

"I'd tell her that is pretty fucked up logic," Kate laughs, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

"Then I'm telling you. What you are thinking right now is pretty fucked up logic," he gives her, and inside he is begging her to see the truth in the comparison. Yeah, she made a mistake – a huge one – and it's one he hasn't forgotten completely. But if it takes him the rest of his life, he's going to teach her how to live with concepts such as mercy, and forgiveness.

"Kate – it took me a while to see this. But if I held that over your head forever, I'd be no different than the man we are now chasing . . . the men who put our friends into the Castles. No, I have never touched you, never hit you . . . but if I kept that over your head forever, I'd still be abusing you. I'd still be hurting you. And in some ways, it would go just as deep as a punch to the gut or a slap to the face. So get over this, babe. You can't live your life like this. We can't."

"How do you do it, Rick?" she asks him, seriously wanting to know. "How do you put it out of your mind? How do you never think about that?"

"I didn't say I never think about it, Kate," he tells her honestly. "I've just decided that I've been given a second chance. And being given this second chance, a _real_ chance this time, is worth far more of my attention and focus than anything you – _and I_ – have done in the past."

He squeezes her hand as he makes the left turn off of Van Ness Avenue and onto California Street.

"Anyway, almost there," he tells her. "And you aren't the only one with a past, Kate. I've got a couple of divorces behind me that – if I let them – could easily define where you and I are going. So I have my issues, too."

She smiles for a moment, knowing the reprieve he has given both of them.

"Can we talk sometime this week? I mean really talk. Because I want this, Rick. It's been so great for the past month. But . . . but life has a way of showing up, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know. We'll talk," he tells her, and adds, as an afterthought, "and we'll pull Samantha in on this, too."

"That's probably a good idea," she tells him, and sees the surprised look on his face.

"What, didn't think it would be that easy?" she asks with a small chuckle. "Don't forget, I'm an old veteran now at seeing shrinks."

He thinks about Dr. Carter Burke, and how she has told him how helpful the doctor had been while she was in New York and he . . . wasn't."

"There it is," she says suddenly, reading the numbers on the houses as they slowly have driven by. He pulls the car over, and is amazed – for perhaps the hundredth time – at her ability to immediately compartmentalize her feelings. Feelings that were just on the brink of exploding just a few seconds ago are completely invisible right now.

"You'll have to show me how you do that," he marvels, smiling as they exit the car and walk toward the house – and receives a firm punch in the shoulder as a reward.

"Walk on, writer," she kids him.

"_Ex_-writer," he corrects her.

"Well, we need to talk about _that_ as well," she tells him, as she mounts the steps up to the two story flat, and rings the doorbell. Seconds later, the gate buzzes, granting them access, and they walk up the flight of stairs to the second story of the building, to the upstairs flat owned by the Blankenships. Jimmy Blankenship waits for them at the top of the stairs.

"Welcome, welcome," he says in greeting, stepping aside so they can enter into the home. It's a beautifully decorated home, with vibrant California colors. Kate is immediately taken with the complete, one-hundred and eighty degree change from what she is used to in New York. Outside of Castle's dwelling, this is the first home she has been inside here on the west coast since her return. The difference between coasts is startling.

"Lovely home," she manages to say, receiving a smile from the bus operator.

"Thanks – all kudos go to Mara, though," he tells them. "This is all her."

Castle nods, as he, too, takes in their surroundings for a few seconds, before launching in with his questions.

"We will try to be brief, Mr. Blankenship –"

"Jimmy."

"Okay. Jimmy. We don't want to take up a lot of your time. We know you work tonight. Can you tell us what happened this morning? Did Rachel seem okay? Were you expecting her to get picked up?"

"We kind of assume she was supposed to get picked up, since today is a school day," Kate adds, "and you aren't anywhere close to the Mission District."

"Gretchen was supposed to pick her up this morning, and we were concerned when she was running late," Jimmy tells them. "When Mark called and told us that Gretchen got called in to work early and that he would be picking Rachel up . . . well, we didn't think anything about it."

"Did Gretchen have to go in early often?" Kate asks him.

"I wouldn't say often, but it was not an unusual occurrence," Jimmy says. "Like I said, we didn't think anything about it."

Castle nods his head, still taking in the décor of the home around them. It is very simply done, yet very tasteful and very colorful. He imagines this is a happy home.

"How did Rachel seem this morning?" Kate continues with her questioning.

"A bit agitated, to be honest," replies Jimmy. "I assume it was just because Gretchen wasn't here, and she was worried about being late for school. But when Mark arrived, she seemed to calm down, and was her normal self."

"Who is this?" Castle asks, holding up a picture in a photograph on the coffee table.

"Oh, that's Mara, Sydney, Gretchen and Rachel," he answers, with a smile. "Took this last month over the Christmas holiday, down at Ghirardelli Square on the wharf, near where Gretchen works."

"Which one is Rachel?" Castle asks, his eyes betraying slight confusion on his part.

"Here is Sydney, in the red sweater," Jimmy states, while pointing to a young teenager, blonde-haired and very pretty. "And this is Rachel here in the green sweater," he states, pointing to a gorgeous brunette knockout. There is no other way to accurately describe the young woman. She looks much older than her fifteen years.

"Hard to believe this kid is fifteen," Castle states. "Either of them, for that matter."

"They are both sixteen," Jimmy corrects him. "Sophomores at John O'Connell."

"I thought Gretchen said that Rachel was 15," Kate Beckett states, with a growing expression of concern on her face.

"No, both are sixteen. Sydney turns 17, in fact, in two months. Rachel turned 16 last month. Threw a big party, of course."

"That's an odd mistake to make," Castle observes, the concern also on his face.

"Not really. She's Gretchen's little sister, not her daughter," Jimmy observes. "Easy mistake to make, I imagine."

"But to forget her sweet 16 just occurred last month?" Kate thinks aloud. "I agree with you, Castle, that is odd."

"What are you thinking, detective?" asks Jimmy, who notes the concern on the faces of both of his visitors, but not understanding their potential thinking.

"Nothing," she tells him. "Just following bread crumbs, that's all."

"So Rachel seemed agitated this morning," Kate repeats.

"And last night, as well, now that I think about it," Jimmy remarks. "Mara had noticed and mentioned it to Sydney."

"And what did Sydney say?" Kate continues, the hairs on her neck now bristling.

"Sydney said it was just Rachel being Rachel," he says. "They are really, really close, those two, but Rachel is a bit of a homebody to be honest. She and Sydney don't spend the night all that often. But when they do, they have a great time."

Castle exchanges a glance with Kate Beckett, willing the dark clouds threatening his mind to retreat. As always, the two are one, in union with their concerns.

"Did Mark give you any indication at all that he wasn't planning on taking Rachel to school this morning?" Kate asks.

"Not at all," he tells her. "When they left, Rachel told Syd that she'd see her in Geometry class."

"When is that?" Castle asks, now standing back in the living area, replacing the photograph back on to the coffee table.

"Second period," Jimmy responds.

Kate asks a few more questions before she and Castle take their leave, thanking Jimmy for his time.

"Hope you can get some rest, Mr. Blankenship," Kate tells him. "Thanks for your time."

"Anytime," Blankenship tells them, shutting the door behind them. Castle and Kate walk down the outdoor steps from the second floor to the street level in silence – almost quietly agreeing not to discuss anything until they are out of sight. Castle hits the buzzer, opening the gate and allowing them to exit to the street, where they walk briskly to the Ferrari and slide in. Seconds later, Castle has executed a U-Turn and they are headed back up California toward Van Ness.

"To the Wharf?" she asks him.

"Yes," he nods, once again smiling at their conjoined thinking.

"Are you thinking what I am thinking?" she asks.

"I sure as hell hope not, because that would make you as depraved as me," he tells her.

"We will see," she tells him. "Mara will either confirm things or turn us in a different direction. And I hope it's the latter," she adds, as she punches up Jennifer Blackard's phone number.

"You and me both," he agrees.

Detective Blackard picks up on the third ring.

"Hello, Kate," she greets her. "Find anything useful?"

"I think so, but I don't want to prejudice your thinking. I assume no one was at the Harper home."

"Quiet as a mouse," Jennifer tells her.

"Good," Kate tells her. "Can you go to Brinkman Brothers, where he works – see what you can find out."

"What are you looking for, Kate?" Jennifer asks.

"I don't want to say, Jen. Anything I say is going to paint a picture in your mind that might not be accurate. I trust you to find something if it is there."

"Fair enough," Jen says, clicking off after saying goodbye.

"How close are we, Castle?"

"Ten minutes. Maybe sooner if traffic allows."

"Good. I want to get there before Jimmy has a chance to say too much to Mara. She works the wharf on Pier 39, so we can count on lots of tourists right now hopefully keeping her too busy for an extended phone chat."

Castle nods his head in agreement, and struggles to shake off the feeling of dread that has taken hold. Every case he worked in New York offered a surprise, and it seems changing coasts isn't going to change that model.

His phone rings, interrupting his thoughts, and he punches the call up on his dashboard.

"What's up, Lindy?" he asks, looking at the Caller ID.

"Hey handsome," she greets him, causing a chuckle from both he and Beckett. Lindy's reputation as a lover of life is near legendary. Very few people he knows have a zest for life that compares to the ex-military woman, and he wonders again how someone who saw the horrors that she has seen on the battlefield can have such a mindset.

"We're still airborne, and Mike wants to know how long we need to stay aloft," she laughs and both Castle and Beckett can 'see' Mike chastising her for bringing him into it.

"Tell 'Mike' that we are good – you two can head back and grab a bite to eat, and –"

"Yes! Lunch!" he hears Lindy exclaim, and both of them break into laughter, as Castle finishes his sentence with the lively woman.

"- and I will holler if we need something."

"Aye aye, captain," she offers as a send-off, and she is gone.

"Truly, truly unique," Kate laughs. "Tell me again where you found her?"

"All Mike," Castle smiles, and adds with a bit of seriousness, "and he has told me often than if there is one person – man or woman – on this planet that you do not want to get into an altercation with, it is Lindy Matthews."

"That's hard to believe," Kate says, not convinced.

"I said the same thing, and Mike actually begged me not to try and find out. Quite the warning, as I took it to be," Castle tells her.

Minutes later, they are pulling into the parking garage across from Pier 39, and are fortunate to find a street level parking spot. Minutes later they are crossing the street to the waterfront side where the pier and all of its shops, restaurants and tourist bookings reside.

The outdoor booking area where Mara works has a line five or six people deep, and Castle points the woman out to Kate, recalling her from the picture.

"Mara Blankenship," Kate says in her direction as she approaches her. "Kate Beckett, Private Investigator for The Castles. Can we have a word with you?"

Mara points to the deep line of customers. "Not the best time, Ms. Beckett," she states.

"_Okay, this is how we are going to play it," _Kate thinks to herself._ "So be it."_

"Mrs. Blankenship – there is a young girl who is missing and time is of the essence. I can make this as easy or hard as you want – it's your choice."

Mara Blankenship sighs – it's a frustrated, disgusted sigh – it says much with just an exhale of breath, as she moves from behind the deck counter.

"Sorry Jerry, give me a minute with our guests," she says, openly hostile to both Kate and Castle. Both notice the stance the young woman takes with them.

"The first thing you need to know is Rachel is no 'young girl' as you describe her," she tells them, and Kate Beckett's heart sinks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 5**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**Pier 39 at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco, California, Still Jan 16, 2012, **_

Kate Beckett glances at Richard Castle, and she can see his face drop, she can see the disappointment lining his features. It's the confirmation that neither of them wanted to face – so much so that neither was willing to even voice the possibility on the drive here to the Wharf. But now, here it is, staring them square in the face.

Mara Blankenship nods her head, seeing the recognition in the faces of the two strangers in front of her. With this recognition, her demeanor towards the two changes noticeably, and her tone softens.

"You don't seem very surprised by what I have just said," she tells them. "Either of you."

Castle glances again at his partner before responding.

"Well, you know, I'm just trying to figure out which is worse. The idea that a husband would beat his wife and then kidnap her sister, or . . . or . . ."

"Or," Kate continues, finishing the thought that he has let drift off, "the idea that a husband would beat his wife and then _run off_ with her sister."

Mara shakes her head – not in disagreement, but in frustration. _"These are two smart cookies,"_ she realizes, _"but they only have half the picture."_

"Or . . ." Mara pauses, as she takes in her two visitors, who now eye her expectantly. "Or, the idea that a husband would beat his wife, _at the behest of_ her younger sister, who then convinces said husband to take her away."

Mara tries to stifle a laugh as she finds herself face to face with two very bewildered expressions.

"Not quite what you expected, eh?" she asks.

Kate's answer is one of action in lieu of words. She wanders over to the fencing that protects the pier, protects tourists from falling into the waters below – and the sea lions frolicking there. Mara's gaze follows her and then shifts questioningly to Richard Castle.

"She's processing what you've just shared with us," he tells her, running an idle hand through his hair, and she nods.

"I know the feeling," Mara tells him. Seeing the additional questions in his expression, she continues, as the two of them walk toward the edge of the pier, where Kate still stands gazing out across the waters.

"Jimmy doesn't believe it either – even now," she tells him. "I have tried to help him see it, but it turns out our little Rachel just has this . . . this . . . Rachel just has this way with men," she finishes, spitting out the young girl's name.

"She didn't try anything with your husband, did she?" a perceptive Castle asks, picking up on the venom that Mara has for the other younger woman.

"Hah. Not that he would recognize," she tells him. "Fortunately, Jimmy tends to be oblivious of these kinds of things. And it is probably just as fortunate that MUNI bus operators don't make enough money to really interest women like Rachel."

"Women?" Castle asks.

"Oh, make no mistake, Mr –"

"Castle," he responds.

This revelation changes Mara's tone once again. She knew she recognized the term "Castles" when Kate Beckett had introduced herself. And, the man does look familiar.

"Richard Castle," she nods, her eyes recognizing him now for the first time. He wonders idly if her recognition is for him as the author or him as the philanthropist. Turns out, it is a bit of both.

"I'm somewhat of a fan, Mr. Castle," she says, smiling now for the first time. "I didn't read your earlier stuff, but the Nikki Heat books are some of my favorites."

"Well, I saw a couple of them on the bookshelf back at your place when we spoke with your husband," Castle admits. "I didn't know if it was you or him that was the reader."

"Both, actually – but Jimmy got me into them, I have to admit. And now that I am putting things together, I get why you are here now. You own the Castles across the bay. Wonderful thing you are trying to do."

"Yes, and Gretchen is staying there now," he answers.

"Good," Mara says, clearly pleased with this information. "Good. She needs a safe surrounding right now, for more than the obvious reasons."

"Seems that way," he agrees. "Still, this is kind of hard to believe, Mara, and that coming from me as a writer is saying something."

"Rachel is a predator, Mr. Castle," Mara tells him, and he can see that she believes this completely. "Make no mistake, she may only be seventeen years old, but she is a lethal predator."

"I would agree," says Kate Beckett, now back and again enjoined with Castle and Mara in the conversation as they have now reached the fence, and has caught the tail end of their exchange. She walks forward and stands next to Castle as she continues.

"If what you say is true, then Mr. Harper's legal troubles have just taken a turn for the worse," she says.

"How so?" Mara asks. "He's a wife abuser. Even if he is being influenced –"

"By a minor, Mara," Kate explains. "He's being – as you say – influenced – by a minor. That's a felony. Whether Gretchen wants to file charges for domestic abuse or not doesn't matter. If you are correct in your suspicions, then he is in deep trouble if he is having relations with –"

"They aren't suspicions," Mara interjects. "I saw them once."

"Saw them how?" Castle asks.

"He picked her up a couple of months ago, from our house. She doesn't stay often –"

"Your husband mentioned that," Kate says, remembering their discussion with Jimmy Blankenship less than half an hour earlier.

"Yes, well the reason for that is I don't like her staying there on his nights off – for obvious reasons," Mara says.

"You said you saw them," Castle says, trying to bring the conversation back on topic.

"Yes, he had picked her up from our place, and as they drove away, Rachel leaned over and slipped her hand in his."

"Well, hold on, " Castle says, still not wanting to face this new development. What in the world is he going to tell Gretchen Harper back at the Castles? She has enough on her mind already. And now adding this to her plate? His mind is reeling as he responds.

"I've seen a few situations where a husband and his sister-in-law are very close and it doesn't mean that they are-"

"What if he puts his hand on her thigh in the car, Mr. Castle? What if she leans over and kisses his ear, and what if this kiss lingers just a bit too long."

His silence is answer enough for both Mara and Kate. And although this confirms Kate's suspicions, it still is not enough to change the current prevalent thought: That Rachel has been kidnapped by her brother-in-law. For now, at least for her safety's sake, that has to remain the equation being solved. Because if Mara is wrong about all of this, then Rachel is in serious danger.

But if Mara is correct – well then Mark Harper's troubles have only just begun. Sex with a minor. Statutory rape. This won't be pretty for him. It won't end well. And if Rachel turns out to be the type of young woman that Mara has portrayed her to be? Well, young Rachel will likely get off scott-free, a victim of a child predator, while her brother-in-law spends time incarcerated.

"This is starting to make sense," Kate says aloud, recalling her conversation with Gretchen while still at the Castles, preparing to leave this morning. "When I told Gretchen that I would find her sister, she gave me the strangest look, before her mask came back on."

"Gretchen is in denial, but she is not stupid," Mara responds.

"Do you think Gretchen suspects?" Castle asks aloud."

"Gretchen is not stupid," Mara repeats, again. "She sees the looks between Mark and Rachel. You can imagine that is a hard thing to accept, but she's not stupid. The only thing that has prevented her from recognizing and fully accepting it is the physical abuse she takes."

"I can see that," Castle says. "A woman thinks her younger sister might have something for her husband – and the husband is an abuser. That can get pretty confusing," he concludes.

"But how do we prove any of this?" Kate asks aloud.

"Find Mark, find Rachel," Mara tells them. "If you can watch them, undetected, everything will become readily apparent, trust me."

"Do you have any idea, Mara, where we might be able to find them?" Kate asks. Castle begins to laugh, and Kate looks at him questioningly.

"Sorry. It's just that the whole reason we wanted to talk with you – originally – Mara, is to ask that very question. Kind of funny that we are only just now getting around to that."

Mara smiles, as does Kate. Indeed, this has been a different conversation.

"Well, Mark has done well. He's in sales – not sure really exactly what he does in sales, but I do know that he's been able to put a little money away, according to Gretchen," Mara tells them. "Where they may have gone is anyone's guess. I don't know of any vacation home or anything like that, if that is what you are getting at."

"We will have to get Jen to check his credit cards, check his bank accounts," Kate says, now thinking beyond the current situation. "If we can pick up his usage, we can start to pinpoint their location," she says, as she takes out her phone from her purse, and pulls up Detective Jennifer Blackard's new contact information and punches the icon to dial the number.

A few rings later, the detective answers.

"Kate," she says in greeting, "you're not going to believe this."

"Oh, try me," Kate smiles. She starts to put the call on speaker so Castle can listen in, but quickly changes her mind. Mara stands right there with them, and though the words from Mrs. Blankenship seem to ring true, something tells her to keep the woman out of this particular call. She can bring Castle up to speed on this later.

"I'm standing here at Mark Harper's desk. I've had a chance to speak with a couple of his co-workers. Both female. Both have interesting stories to tell."

"Let me guess," Kate smiles wistfully. "They think he's having an affair."

"Not just any affair," the detective says, almost in a whisper. "But one with a much younger woman, and when I say much younger, Kate, I mean _much younger_."

"As in sixteen or seventeen years old kind of younger?" Kate asks, although she already knows the answer.

"Yep – and I'm wondering why you aren't very surprised."

"Let's just say that what you are hearing lines up with what Castle and I have found out, unfortunately."

"It's more than that, Kate. There is a picture of a young woman – I can only assume her to be our little missing _victim_," Jen tells her, emphasizing the word in a somewhat derisive manner.

"On his desk?" Kate asks, incredulously.

"On his desk, front and center. And oh yeah, there is a picture of Gretchen here also, but trust me, the vibe I've gotten here is that little Markie has been a bad, bad boy," Jennifer finishes.

"Any ideas on –"

"Looking through things right now," the detective interrupts. "Getting into his calendar now – let me call you back in a bit – see if I can find us something to go on."

"Call back when you can," Kate tells her, clicking off.

"Well?" Castle asks.

"Jennifer is at his work, and it seems what she is learning there coincides with what we have learned here with Mara," she responds. Glancing at Mrs. Blankenship, she continues, brushing her hair out of her eyes. The wind is picking up down here at the wharf, and she pulls her small coat tighter. She's still not used to the cold in San Francisco – a very different kind of cold than she was accustomed to back in New York.

"Mara, thank you for your help. We're going to get out of your hair now, but I just have one final question for you."

"Shoot," the woman says.

"What is the relationship like between Gretchen and Rachel? I mean, besides the fact that it appears her little sister might be sleeping with her husband, do the sisters get along?"

"Interesting question," Mara responds, with a hint of a smile. "Maybe you missed it earlier. Rachel is the kingpin here in this equation, Ms. Beckett. She is not a victim, not a pawn, not a young girl being used. She is the one moving the pieces around, if you will. If Mark has been abusing Gretchen, which I know for a fact that he has, I can tell you that it all started when Rachel came to live with them."

"Really?" Castle interjects, now seemingly more interested.

"That interests you, Mr. Castle?"

"It's a better story," Castle tells her. "I know it sounds strange, but my experiences have been that often it is the better story that proves true. That which is most obvious typically turns out to be false."

"I can certainly vouch for that," Kate states, matter-of-factly, and the two smile at each other, sharing past memories only know to the two of them on this pier.

"So you are saying that this just started? The physical abuse of Gretchen is something new?" Castle asks her.

"First of all, Gretchen and Rachel are half-sisters. Same mother - different father. Rachel came to live with Mark and Gretchen about a year ago after her biological father died," Mara explains.

"So Gretchen and Rachel have the same mother, but Rachel lived with her father instead of her mother," Kate repeats, jotting the information down in her mini-tablet. She's still trying to get used to not carrying around a small notebook. She's almost there.

"No," Mara corrects. "Rachel lived with her mother and her father in Colorado. Her father was not Gretchen's father. Now he is dead, and so Rachel came to live with Gretchen."

"Instead of staying with her mother?" Castle asks in wonderment.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Mara agrees.

"Was there a problem between Rachel and their mother?" Kate asks.

"I don't think so," Mara replies. "I remember Gretchen telling me that the general thinking was that Rachel would stay in Colorado with her mom. I mean, there is no real reason for her to leave her mother, right? But Gretchen told me that once she and Mark got to the funeral in Colorado, that's when Rachel dropped the bomb on everyone that she wanted to live with her big sister. I mean, what's Gretchen going to say?"

"Sounds like Rachel may have had ideas already," Kate whispers out loud, to no one in general.

"Indeed," Mara agrees, with a small smile. "It's good to know what you are dealing with," she continues. "I don't think Gretchen ever caught on to that. I believe once Rachel decided that she wanted Mark, Gretchen's goose was cooked at that point."

"You believe Mark physically abuses his wife because of Rachel?" Castle asks, again not wanting to believe this.

"I've already said that, Mr. Castle," Mara states, getting a bit frustrated. "Look, I know this isn't the nice little case that you two can tidy up in a nice little bow right away," she tells them. "I tried telling Jimmy, he didn't listen, I tried telling Gretchen and she didn't listen. Now I'm telling the two of you. Eventually, someone is going to believe what I am saying – and I hope it happens before someone else gets killed."

"Someone else?" Kate states, questioningly. _"Did I just miss something here?"_ she thinks to herself.

"What do you mean someone else?" Castle interjects as well.

"C'mon you two. Aren't you listening?" Mara states sadly. "Who do you think killed Rachel's father?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 6**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**Pier 39 at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco, California, Still Jan 16, 2012, **_

"Okay, I guess we are _not_ finished with you, Mrs. Blankenship," Kate Beckett sighs. She gently grabs the woman by the elbow, guiding her toward the benches along the fences that separate the pier from the bay waters below. Kate offers a look back at Jerry, Mara's co-worker who is becoming more anxious by the minute at the long line of tourists forming behind the counter. His long brown hair blows in the soft bay wind, masking his frustration at his co-worker who has just walked away.

"Sorry, Jerry," Kate tells him. "This is going to take a little longer than I thought." With that, she takes the few extra steps necessary to join Richard Castle and Mara Blankenship on the bench. The seagulls flying overhead provide a bit of a nuisance, and Kate idly wonders if she will ever get used to this aspect of the city by the bay. To date, it is the only negative she has found.

"Okay, Mara, talk," Kate says tiredly.

It's still early in the day, but it sure doesn't feel like it right now. And this case? What started out as a simple assault and battery – if there is ever such a thing – has now turned into a full-fledged mess, complete with faux kidnapping, potential sex with a minor, all wrapped around what Mara is getting ready to tell them is an unsolved murder from over a year ago.

Yeah, Kate Beckett is very tired right now, and it is barely lunch.

"Where do I start?" the woman responds.

"You believe that Rachel killed her father," Castle states, encouraging Mara to elaborate on her accusation.

"Yes, I do," Mara says simply. "Quite obvious, I would think."

"How and when did her father die?" Kate asks the woman who sits beside her.

"And why do you say it is obvious?" Castle adds.

It was just over a year ago, right before Christmas," Mara answers, brushing her windblown hair out of her face. "It was a family skiing trip in Vail that didn't turn out well, to say the least. Rachel and her father went out for a little daddy-daughter time on the slopes while mom went into town shopping. Somehow, he – an experienced skier of over twenty years – managed to veer off course and over the edge. He landed roughly fifty feet below. By the time Rachel got to him, he was gone – or so says Rachel."

Castle and Beckett have exchanged glances during the soliloquy. Castle stares at the younger woman with raised eyebrows, clearing questioning what he has just heard.

"Is this so hard to believe, Mr. Castle?" Mara asks.

"Only that an experienced skier goes off the edge of a cliff and the authorities didn't suspect any foul play," Castle says, thinking out loud.

"I didn't say no one suspected foul play," Mara tells them. "There just was not enough evidence to really press charges or proceed with anything serious."

"Forgive me for asking, Mara, but you aren't family with Rachel, and you don't seem to necessarily be friends either. That said, I have to say you seem to know an awful lot about Rachel, and about a year-old case all the way out in Colorado," Kate Beckett observes, now waiting to see the reaction from the young woman who has been feeding them information.

"I suppose I can't blame you for thinking that," Mara admits. "To be honest, when Rachel started hanging out with Sydney last year, the two really hit it off. They met at school, before Jimmy and I moved away from the Mission District. That first semester Rachel moved here, she and Sydney had like – I don't know – four or five classes together."

"Sydney didn't transfer after you moved?" Castle asks.

"No. She finished her freshman year at O'Connell, and told us she wanted to stay there. Her friends that she has been with since middle school were there. And Rachel was there. And she and Rachel have stayed friends, even though they don't do as much after school with each other. Sydney spent the night at their house and obviously, Rachel has been here with us a few times."

"So they are good friends and continued their friendship after Sydney moved away. That still doesn't explain how you know so much," Kate counters.

"You're not listening," Mara says, testily. "My daughter has spent a more than a few nights with Rachel and her family. Before letting her go to their home, Jimmy and I did our homework, finding out as much about Gretchen and Mark as we could. They seemed to be a nice, easy-going couple – much like Jimmy and I."

"There was no evidence that Mark may have been abusing Gretchen?" Castle asked, a bit surprised.

"No. As I said, any problems Gretchen and Mark had started after Rachel had been there awhile," Mara responds. "And once they started having problems, I hadn't yet put it together that Rachel might have been the cause, the instigator in the problems for Gretchen and Mark. So when Sydney would ask if she could go there for the night, Jimmy and I would counter, telling her to just have Rachel over here at our house. Regardless, Rachel was very forthcoming with Sydney, telling her about her family in Colorado, how she and her dad didn't have the best of relationships, and how he died and the guilt she felt after he died."

"Why didn't they get along?" Castle asked. "I've seen numerous times where a mother and her teenage daughter have their issues. But typically, at that age, dad is very protective of his little girl, and typically, their teenage daughters appreciate that very much." Clearly Castle is drawing on his own experiences here.

"True," Mara agrees. "Rachel's mother said that her dad was, indeed, very protective. Rachel used the term 'very strict'. Too much so for her tastes. Turns out that the family ski trip wasn't Rachel's first choice for that weekend. She'd been invited out to Breckenpark – something like that – "

"Breckinridge," Castle corrects her, and glances at Kate. "One of the nicest ski resorts in the country."

"Yeah, that was it. Forgive me, Jimmy and I are not ski enthusiasts," Mara says, before continuing. "Anyway, Rachel had been invited with friends to go to Breckinridge, but her parents already had plans to head to Vail. So Rachel ends up with mom and dad instead of with her friends."

"I take it Rachel wasn't pleased with that development," Kate comments, off-handedly.

"According to Sydney, and to some of the comments Rachel has made, she was a lot more than just not pleased," Mara says.

"Yeah, but murder? Because you didn't get to go with your friends?" Kate comments, not convinced.

"Maybe, but maybe not, Kate," Castle states, thinking about this development for a moment. "Think about the hundreds of cases you have worked and solved. The reasons one person murders another seldom have to do with logic, and more often are an emotional reaction or response to something."

Kate nods her head, agreeing, before Castle continues.

"Of course, the pre-meditated, complex, fully-planned out murder is always the better story," Castle muses, causing both women to look his way.

"Now, you said you spoke with Rachel's mother," Kate adds, now changing gears. "You said that she mentioned that her husband was very protective."

"Yes, I spoke with Rhonda a few times, especially when the girls started to want to spend nights together. Like I said, we did our homework."

"You didn't think you would get that from talking to Gretchen?" Kate asks.

"Sure – we talked to Gretchen. But Gretchen is a grown woman who now has a little sister living with her who she hasn't lived with in years. The last time Gretchen lived at home with Rachel, Rachel was ten, maybe eleven years old. She knew the little girl Rachel. She was just learning about the teenager Rachel – like us."

"Makes sense," Castle comments, glancing back toward the now impossibly long line of increasingly agitated tourists who grow more impatient with poor Jerry by the minute.

"Did Rachel's mom think anything out of the ordinary?" Kate asks.

"Yeah, she did," Mara comments. "She wondered if Rachel was hiding anything. She never bought into the notion that her experienced husband lost his way, or lost his edge. I remember her mentioning that he would never take her on the advanced slopes for fear of something happening. She found it impossible to believe that he could make a fatal mistake on slopes that were not – what was the word she used . . . challenging, I think it was."

"She thought something was afoot?" Castle asks.

"Not sure. She just thought that Rachel was hiding something. Maybe Rachel had an inadvertent part in the accident."

Kate Beckett stares at the woman for a few additional seconds before making up her mind.

"Okay, thanks Mara, I will look into this as well," Kate tells her.

"Good, can I get back to work now?" Mara asks, glancing at Jerry who continues to throw angry looks her way. "Jerry looks like his head is going to explode – cripes, you'd think he could handle things for a few minutes without me," Mara grumbles.

"Sure, sure, we can always reach back out to you if we have any questions," Kate mentions.

Mara makes sure that Kate has her cell number before returning to her outdoor sales counter, and Jerry. But before she moves away, she cautiously turns back toward Kate and Castle.

"I hope I'm wrong. I really do," she tells them. "But I don't think I am." She mumbles something else under her breath, but she is now too far away for Kate or Castle to understand.

_**Pier 39 at McCormick and Kuleto's at Fisherman's Wharf, 1:30 p.m. Jan 16, 2012, **_

Kate Beckett and Richard Castle sit at a small four-top table along the window, overlooking the water across the street. They've ordered lunch and are waiting for their new temporary partner to arrive. Kate has been quiet, reviewing her notes and drawing imaginary parallels as she gets her thoughts together, her face in a perpetual frown.

Castle has been on the phone, with Dr. Samantha Peraza, getting an update on Gretchen Harper and a couple of other more recent women to register there in the past few days, when Detective Jennifer Blackard makes her way towards the couple. He stands up, in greeting, as the detective approaches, when his phone rings again. Glancing down, he sees the name 'Lindy M' and quickly makes a hasty retreat toward the front of the restaurant.

"Sorry ladies," he offers to Kate and then to Jennifer has he brushes past her quickly. "Been waiting for this particular call," he says. Seconds later he is outside on the brick steps leading up to the restaurant, away from the noise.

"Lindy – thanks for returning my call," he begins.

"No problem, boss, what's up?" she says, and her typical up-beat voice brings a smile to his face. _"Such an optimist in a pessimistic world,"_ he muses to himself, wondering how she does it.

"I want you to rewind all the way back to this morning when you picked up Gretchen Harper, Lindy," he begins. "I want you to revisit your conversation with her, when you picked her up, and while you were in the chopper."

"That's easy," Lindy begins. "I was in the front seat in the chopper, and she was behind me, so we didn't say an awful lot then. We did get a chance to talk during the walk on the way to the chopper and before we lifted off. What do you want to know?"

"This is going to sound strange, or obvious – so try to read between the lines. Did anything seem a little off with her? And I know she's been abused, I know she's scared, I know she has a lot of feelings going on then. But Lindy, you've been on pickups before, and you've been there when women have arrived. Was there anything different about this one?"

"Gosh, Rick, I really don't know. I have to think on this. What are you looking for? Can you steer me in any direction?"

"I really would rather not," Castle says, not wanting to influence or prejudice the woman's thinking. He quickly decides, however, that he can offer one thing up.

"Okay, tell me this. When Mike landed, he told me that Gretchen had a sister who was unaccounted for. How did the two of you discover this?"

"Standard procedure," Lindy responds, her military bearings now returning. "We pick up our mark, we find out if there are any children involved that could be in danger, we ask for the closest trusted relative – outside the spouse or husband, of course – in the area."

"And she told you about her sister, Rachel," Castle states.

"Yes. Told us she had a little sister, aged fifteen, who had spent the night with a friend."

Castle makes a mental note again of the age difference, again noting it to be a curious mistake, as he listens to Lindy Matthews.

"I asked if . . ." Lindy stops, pausing for a few seconds.

"What?" Castle asks. "You asked her what, Lindy?"

"I asked if she felt her sister would be in danger," Lindy responds. "She didn't really answer. She made a strange face. I didn't really pick up on it before, because I just chalked it up to her just getting away from an assault and battery situation and her mind is still racing."

Lindy cannot see, of course, but Castle is nodding his head, as he stares out at the water across the street in the distance. Of course Lindy – and Mike – would mistake Gretchen's indifference for fear or shock, given what she had just gone through.

"Then I asked her if she wanted us to pick her sister up, to make sure she was okay," Lindy continues. "Now that I think back, that was a curious response on her part."

"What did she say?" Castle asks.

"She said – and I quote – 'Fine. She'll be fine.'"

Castle nods again, his face saddening. For some reason – and perhaps it is just because he is a dad himself – this situation, this case, it is really starting to bother him. And he feels guilty, because he has seen women battered, and one killed, during the past months. Why a troubled teenager is getting to him in the face of the other tragedy he has seen, he doesn't know for sure. Regardless, things are falling – horribly – into place. Every piece of information they uncover points to an ugly portrayal of betrayal by a younger sibling.

"Mike and I chalked it up to shock and the stress of the situation, and issued the call to pick up the sister," Lindy continues. "What's going on here, boss?"

"Later, Lindy, I promise," he tells her. "I need to get back inside, but thank you, you have just confirmed a few things for me." He clicks off, considering this new information, and then heads back into the restaurant. Walking towards the left, where their table sits along the window, he catches Kate and Jennifer laughing, likely catching up on lost time. He is – once again – grateful that Kate's indoctrination to the west coast is going so easily. They are together, she has found a purpose here, now she has found an old friend here.

Yeah, things could be a lot worse.

He reaches the table, pulls out his chair and settles his roughly large six foot, two-inch frame into the smaller chair, then turns it so he can face the window.

"Your ears must have been burning, Cas-"

Kate stops in mid-sentence as she sees the contemplative expression on her lover's face. Evidently that phone call he just took doesn't agree with him.

"What's wrong, babe?" she asks.

"Aw, that's so cute," Jennifer kids her, receiving a punch in the arm as her reward.

"Just spoke with Lindy," Castle says, still staring off through the window. "I asked her how Gretchen seemed this morning, and I asked her specifics about what Gretchen said."

He then relates, word for word as best he can remember, what Lindy has told him about Gretchen's conversation. Specifically – Gretchen's response when she was asked if she wanted them to pick up her sister.

"_Fine. She'll be fine."_

Both Kate's and Jennifer's heads fall back a couple of inches in disbelief at that one.

"Yeah, I thought the same thing," Castle says, dejectedly.

"So she must have suspected something," Kate says, her own face falling now.

"If Mara is right, and the abuse didn't start until Rachel moved in, then yeah – I would guess Gretchen would have had to start putting something together, even if Mara didn't think she was," Castle alludes out loud.

"That means that Gretchen didn't really ask for her sister to be picked up," Jennifer comments, as she picks up a glass of water and takes a long sip. She moves the lemon around so as not to swallow it, ignoring the straw provided.

"It means that Gretchen wasn't all that concerned with her sister's well-being," Kate adds.

"Because she didn't need to, according to Mara," Castle continues, finishing the thought. "According to Mara, the marital problems began when Rachel moved in."

"So there would have been no threat to Rachel from the husband," Jennifer continues herself. "At least not of the violent kind."

"What did you find out at his work?" Kate asks. She had waited until Castle returned to start talking shop about the case again.

"Mark Harper had a thing for her, that's for sure. There was a single picture of Gretchen on his desk, and one of Rachel. Not unusual, especially if he is now the father figure for the girl," Jennifer states, as both Castle and Kate nod in agreement.

"Howeveeerrr," Jennifer continues, drawing the word out, "Inside Markie's desk was a thumb drive. And on said thumb drive were some fairly incriminating photographs of Rachel. I'd hazard a guess that Mark is the one who took them."

"When you say incriminating . . ." Kate's words fall off, waiting for Jennifer to continue.

"I'm saying late night, cable TV, adult-on-demand pictures," Jennifer says. The bourbon drink in Castle's hand stumbles, splashing ice cubes and liquid across his jacket, as he fights a sudden coughing fit, brought on by alcohol flowing down the wrong tube.

"Wonderful," Kate muses aloud at the latest news. "His goose is so cooked, now. He-"

"He brought it on himself, Kate," Jennifer interrupts. "We're talking about a child-molesting, wife abuser –"

"Who is being played by a predator," Kate interrupts. "Make no mistake about it, Rachel Harper is –"

"Rachel Harper is seventeen!" Castle explodes, startling both women. "Or sixteen. Hell, I don't know how old she is, but she isn't eighteen, that much we know."

"Well, _some_one is lying about the girl's age, Mr. Castle," Jennifer counters. "For all we know she could be eighteen."

"And a sophomore in high school? Not likely," Castle offers, testily.

"So she is a victim here, I agree, Castle," Kate offers, trying to diffuse the situation. She recognizes the tension at the table. She remembers it from her time at the 12th. Cops, Detectives, Private Investigators – all of them are used to dealing with corrupt, dishonest, and sometimes flat out evil adults. But it's the kids – it's when minors are involved on either side of the fence that gets everyone testy. It ratchets the stress and tension up ten-fold. She can see it at this table now.

"Damn right she is," Castle says, more softly now. He has visions of a younger Alexis, being preyed upon by an older man. He doesn't care what Alexis might say or do – there is nothing, _absolutely nothing_ that she could ever say or do to warrant an older man from coming on to her, taking pictures of her, having relations with her.

He slams his glass down on the table, getting the attention of the older couple that sits at the adjacent table. Kate quickly mouths an apology to them, having an idea where Castle's mind has wandered.

"Look, Castle, I'm not . . ." She stops, as she sees the faraway look in his eyes.

"Rick!" she says, slightly louder, and that brings him back, his eyes drifting toward hers and exchanging glances between Kate and Jennifer.

"Rick," she says again, this time more softly. "She is a victim. I agree. There is no question about that. But let's not kid ourselves. If what we know is true, if what we have learned is true, then we also have to see Rachel not just as a victim, but as something else."

"Agree," Jennifer says, still holding Castle's gaze. "If this is a young woman who has been sexually accosted and that's the end of it – well, that is one thing."

"But," Kate begins, rubbing the chin as her elbow sits on the table, "if this is a young woman who has somehow been involved with the murder of a father, the physical abuse of an older sister, and the temptation of step-father figure . . . well, all I am saying is that this is out of the frying pan and into the fire."

"Out of the forest and into the woods," Castle remarks under his breath, now staring out the window once again.

"What was that?" Jennifer asks, almost chuckling.

"Writer's metaphor," he remarks, and lifts the remaining liquid in his glass to his lips, and downs the drink in one gulp.


	7. Chapter 7

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 7**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**Pier 39 at McCormick and Kuleto's at Fisherman's Wharf, 1:50 p.m. Jan 16, 2012, **_

Kate Beckett and Detective Jennifer Blackard sit at the table along the window, waiting for their food to arrive, now by themselves. Richard Castle left not five minutes ago, heading back to the Castles in Sausalito. He didn't say much, or give any reason – he just suddenly said that he needed to speak with Dr. Samantha Peraza and check on a few other things.

"You go ahead, babe," Kate had told him when he told them he was leaving. "I told Gretchen that I wouldn't be back without her little sister, and I am keeping that promise, one way or another."

"I understand," he had told her. "I will call you in a while, I just want to check on something."

"Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Castle?" Jennifer had offered, fishing for details.

"Not even a penny just yet, detective," he had told her. Kate had smiled. It was strange hearing Castle refer to another woman as 'detective'. It's silly really, because it's not like Kate Beckett had been the only female detective on the planet. But still . . .

"Anyway, even if this whole thing with Rachel Harper turns out to be as bad as it looks, I'm not returning until we have this settled, and I have Rachel . . . either on my arm or in cuffs."

Castle had nodded and taken his leave, with a quick kiss on the lips for Kate, bringing a smile from her friend. Jennifer Blackard knows much – not everything, of course – but certainly much about what Kate Beckett has been through. Seeing her old friend happy like this has been wonderful for the San Francisco detective.

Suddenly, Kate's reverie is broken by Jennifer.

"What's on your mind, Kate?" she asks. Clearly something is not sitting well with her friend.

"Why would Mark Harper leave nude pictures of a minor on a thumb drive in his desk? His unlocked desk at that," Kate says, her nose crinkled and both hands rubbing her temples.

Jennifer says nothing. Instead, she turns her attention to the view of the water outside their window, in the distance across the street. She, too, had felt a small nagging at this point, but had not – until this moment – really taken the time to consider this.

"You still have it, don't you?" Kate asks. "The thumb drive?"

"In my car, wrapped in a bag," Jennifer responds, and Kate simply nods her head.

"Good thing you had the foresight to call ahead for a search warrant," Kate tells her, smiling. It was certainly easier – and expedited – due to the Amber Alert that has been called. A missing child – supposedly – had given her the warrant - and the right - to search Mark Harper's work.

Kate is wondering, now, and her she takes a long drink of the ice water in front of her, trying to slow her thoughts down.

"Everything just seems too clean, Jennifer, too pact. Everything points to the young teenager, Rachel, as the main culprit here, the brains behind everything . . . "

"And?" Jennifer asks, questioningly.

"And . . . I don't know about you," Kate says, "but in my experience, things are just never this neat, this straight-forward."

"I know what you mean," Jennifer agrees. "But," she continues, "sometimes we do just catch a break, y'know? Don't look a gift horse, and all that."

"You said," Kate begins, ignoring her friend, "that everyone at Mark's office felt he was having an affair."

"Yes," Jennifer says.

"An affair with a younger woman," Kate continues, and Jennifer nods her head in agreement.

"But they didn't say how young," Kate says. "How old is Mark?" she asks suddenly.

"Let me confirm," Jennifer says, checking her notes before she answers. "30 years old," Jennifer says, finally.

"So a younger woman doesn't necessarily have to be a teenager," Kate says, thinking out loud. "She could easily be a woman like Gretchen, in her mid-twenties."

"Or a very youthful looking woman in her thirties," Jennifer adds. "You remember these California girls, Kate," she chuckles, and Kate joins in with her.

"Oh, that I do," she says. "But back to my original question. Mark is a businessman, and by all accounts, he is not stupid. He has to know that possessing nude pictures of a minor is a serious stuff. For him to keep those pictures on a drive in his drawer . . ."

"He might as well have just put a sign with an arrow . . . 'come look here'," Jennifer adds.

Both women are quiet for a moment, lost in each of their thoughts, when Jennifer offers a suggestion that Kate has to admit she has not done before.

"Switch," Jennifer says, handing Kate her small notebook. Kate looks at it for a moment, confused for a second until recognition sets in.

"Something you do often?" she asks the detective as she hands over her notes.

"Sometimes we find it useful to swap notes," her friend responds. "The key is for both of us to stay quiet for the next few minutes while we review each other's notes. Then we compare thoughts."

Kate nods, filing this concept away for future use. She makes a mental note to suggest this to her friends back at the 12th in New York, then drops her eyes to the notebook, focusing on what Jennifer has written down.

Five minutes later, she lifts her eyes, and finds Jennifer staring at her. Evidently, the detective is a faster reader. Or maybe Kate didn't write down as many notes. No matter, she looks at her friend, scratching her head momentarily.

"You first," Jennifer tells her.

"Why should we be taking everything Mara has told us as gospel?" Kate finally asks, searching her friend's eyes for confirmation or push back. She smiles when it becomes clear it is the former.

"And why is Mara so quick to accuse Rachel, to throw her so far under the bus?" Jennifer adds, shaking her head. "On one hand, she can be the concerned citizen we want everyone to be . . ." she says, her sentence falling off.

"Innocent people don't have an alibi," Kate tells her, "and furthermore, innocent . . . maybe I should say 'uninvolved' people don't have detailed explanations with all of the i's dotted and t's crossed."

"Agree," Jennifer states quietly. "Theories?"

"One," Kate begins, "Mara has a thing for Mark."

"That would be the most obvious," Jennifer agrees. "She was very detailed about what she saw between Mark and Rachel in the car that one time that Mark picked her up from the Blankenship home."

"Do you think she imagined it?" Kate muses aloud.

"Or over-exaggerated what she saw," Jennifer counters.

"Or just flat-out lied about it," Kate concludes.

"Perhaps Rachel is a threat all right . . . but not to Mark. Perhaps she is a threat to Mara," Jennifer offers, and Kate nods in agreement.

"All good possibilities," she says. "I'm used to the weird ones, the ones that come out of left field. I'm used to the ones where the second or third option turns out to be the right one. This, right now, is just too clear cut for me," she tells her, shaking her head.

"Well, there is one thing we can do right after we eat," Jennifer says. "The thumb drive."

"We can check it for prints," Kate smiles.

"It will be interesting to see who has been handling that little guy recently," Jennifer states, and smiles as she sees the waiter approaching with her snow crab lunch plate.

"Time out for a few," she says smiling, and Kate cannot help but laugh. Seconds later, her bowl of clam chowder in a cut-out sourdough bowl sits in front of her, and she leans down to take in its aroma. Before her second bite, however, her thoughts leave the wonderful warm broth, and are once again lost in the chaos of the case.

For a few minutes, neither woman says a word, as they allow the other to catch up on their meal, and re-order their thoughts and ideas. Jennifer reaches over, grabbing her small notebook from the table in front of Kate, and jots down a note. Kate smiles as she sees Jennifer writing down the name "Rhonda".

"I agree," Kate says, as both women smile in agreement. "A call to Gretchen and Rachel's mother is a good next step. Let's see how much of what Mara Blankenship has told us – specifically about their family – can be confirmed by Rhonda."

"You said that she mentioned that Rhonda thought Rachel was hiding something," Jennifer says, circling the name.

"That, and the fact that Rachel and her father didn't get along," Kate adds.

"_That little gem seemed to bother Castle quite a bit,"_ she recalls.

Twenty minutes later, Kate has finished her bowl and Jennifer is almost finished with her crab legs when Kate picks up her phone.

"Do you mind, Jennifer?" she asks. "I'm anxious to –"

"No, no, go ahead," Jennifer says quickly. "I want to find out what she says also. What's the quickest way to get her mother's phone number?"

"Well, at least that part is easy," Kate tells her, as she pulls up the contact information for the Castles complex and hits SEND. A couple of rings later, Dawn Harrison answers the phone at the administration building.

"Castles, this is Dawn," she says in greeting.

"What are you doing on the board, Dawn?" Kate asks, a little surprised.

"Oh hey Kate," Dawn responds. "Sara is with Castle. He came barreling in here and asked her to look up some information for him."

Kate smiles, and her smile quickly turns to a long chuckle, bringing an eyebrow raise from her detective friend. She wonders if Castle is somehow on the same page, the same wavelength as she is. No matter.

"Do me a favor, can you Dawn? Look in the registry database and get me Gretchen Harper's mothers phone number."

"Sure thing," Dawn says, laughing out loud. "Castle asked for the same thing. You two really are funny," she says as she types in Gretchen's name and pulls the information up.

Seconds later, Beckett is dialing the number, having signed off with Dawn. "Seems Castle may be walking down the same path as we are," she tells Jennifer, who only nods her head. Seconds later, leans in as she hears Kate greet the woman on the other end. Kate waves to her to swing her chair around so that they can place their heads together, allowing both to listen, since she doesn't want to go on speakerphone here in the restaurant.

"Hello?" Rhonda Martin answers.

"Rhonda Martin," Kate begins, "my name is Kate Beckett. I am a private investigator here in San Francisco."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Kate mentally kicks herself, as she sees Jennifer frown as well. Rhonda Martin has buried her husband just over a year ago, and has watched her youngest daughter leave home. Now a PI is calling from San Francisco, where both of her daughters now live. This can't possibly be good news for the mother.

Kate hears the woman gasp and quickly recovers.

"Rhonda, hold on, hold on. Things are all right," she lies. For now, there is no reason to unduly alarm the woman. And truth be told, Gretchen is safe, and Rachel . . . well, she just doesn't know about Rachel.

"I'm calling because something happened, and Gretchen has left her home. Now don't worry, Gretchen is fine. We have her with us, and –"

"That's impossible," Rhonda Martin says quietly, suddenly. "That's impossible."

"What do you mean, Rhonda?" Kate asks, as she glances at Jennifer to her left who sits with her, their cheeks almost touching as they both listen in.

"Gretchen is on her way here to Colorado Springs," Rhonda tells her. "She lands in about fifteen minutes. I know, because Mark called me this morning. He put her on a plane and I am on my way to pick her up right now."


	8. Chapter 8

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 8**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**Same Day, Now at The Castle's Safe Complex, Sausalito, California, 2:15p.m. on Jan 16, 2012, **_

Richard Castle turns the engine off to the Ferrari, and slowly gets out of the sports car. A cool breeze has picked up, and he hears it rustling through the high leaves in the tall trees just behind the buildings here on the campus. He never gets tired of listening to this. He finds it peaceful, and has on more than one occasion hoped that his guests here at the complex feel the same. He breathes deeply, inhaling nature's smells at the same time.

The ride from McCormick and Kuleto's down at the Wharf has taken just under half an hour – a new record for him. He's made good time – actually due more from speeding than the lack of traffic. It had been a busy ride, mentally. Something just isn't sitting well with the ex-writer, and he cannot shake the feeling that he is – that they all are – missing something. Unbeknownst to him, he is having the similar concerns, similar thoughts as his partner back at Fisherman's Wharf.

Mara Blankenship has given them a lot to think about, and a lot of it just isn't computing. Mara has told them that the abuse of Gretchen Harper by her husband, Mark, started after her little sister Rachel got there. Now, that's certainly possible, but this whole idea that a married man is falling for – and taking actions toward – the _teenage sister of his wife_? And this teenager is scheming to take her older sister's place? No, this is too 'out there' even for a Richard Castle novel.

That had left a couple of other possibilities, and although they don't bode well for Gretchen Harper, they do make more sense to the ex-writer.

"_What if the abuse started long before Rachel got there?"_ Castle had wondered aloud during the drive back to Sausalito. This question had sent him down a frustrating series of train tracks.

"_But if this is the case, then why in the world would Gretchen allow her younger sister to walk into a quagmire like that?"_ he had asked himself, talking out loud, hearing his thoughts and deciding on their validity. Why would she bring her little sister into such an abusive situation? This makes no sense, whatsoever.

The best answer is – she wouldn't. The best answer is that upon learning of her father's death, there is no way she would allow her baby sister to come here – not into this dangerous situation. Even if one subscribes to the 'strength in numbers' theory – this just doesn't make sense. In fact, a more likely, more probable course of action would have been for Gretchen to use her father's death as an opportunity to leave California, leave her abusive husband, to return home to Colorado to live with her mother and younger sister.

"_Well, maybe not. One of the hardest things for abused women to do is to leave,"_ he had thought to himself, and was once again grateful for all of the women who have found the courage to come to his complex. Then another, more personal thought had hit him.

"_Unless . . . unless they endure a personal tragedy . . . and her father dying suddenly and potentially mysteriously – yeah, that would qualify as a personal tragedy."_

He nods his head knowingly, and absent-mindedly. Richard Castle has a world of experience with a certain ex-detective who has changed her life due to a personal loss. His thoughts had gone back to a young Kate Beckett, early in her years at Stanford. A knife changed all of that. Her mother's death brought her back to New York from the west coast, and changed her major studies. Yeah, he has seen how someone can react – can change – due to a personal tragedy.

"_That could have spurred her to move back. If she's being abused, that was her chance to jump ship,"_ he had mused out loud.

That brought him back full circle to his original thought – to the scenarios that Mara Blankenship had so vividly painted. Maybe the abuse _did_ start when Rachel got there. But why? Is it really as simple as having a young sister so evil that she would literally bite off the hand that has taken her in?

Or is it something more to this? His experience – like his partner's – is that nothing is usually this easy, this straight-forward.

"_And it's not how I would write it. It's horrible, but it's . . . it's boring," _he had said aloud, chuckling._ "No, there is something else – something we are missing. I mean, this is a tall leap, even for me to write a sister this twisted."_

He had chuckled then at the play on words of the old heavy metal band, and finds himself chuckling again as he walks toward the front door of the main administration building here at the Castles. He opens the door and takes a few steps in when he sees Sara at the front desk.

"Hey Sara" he offers in greeting, and Sara returns his welcome with a bright smile.

"Hi Mr. Castle," she begins, "We were hoping –"

"Sara . . ." he pauses. "It's Rick. C'mon Sara, we've been over this enough," but the young woman simply smiles.

"Yes, Mr. Castle. We were hoping you'd show up soon," she tells him.

"Who wants to see me?" he asks, with a sigh and a smile.

"Dr. Peraza."

"Great, because she's the one I want to talk with as well," he smiles as he walks past the desk and turns to head down the hallway to the right were Dr. Samantha Peraza's office sits. Suddenly he turns back to the receptionist.

"Hey Sara. Gretchen Harper. New guest of ours – registered this morning. Can you pull her profile, please?"

"Sure thing. Anything in particular you are looking for?"

"Her mother's phone number," he tells her. "Just bring it to Dr. Peraza's office."

With that, he heads down the hallway, anxious to speak with the on-campus counselor. A few seconds later, he knocks on the good doctor's door, and smiles at her standard greeting.

"Enter or go away, but do either quickly," he hears her say from inside the office. Opening the door, he puts his head through – as if testing to see if there is an all clear.

"Hey Samantha," he offers cheerily, trying to pick up his mood. There is no time for chit-chat, however, as Dr. Peraza has been waiting for him, as Sara had promised.

"Rick," she begins, "Good, good. I'm glad you're here."

"I was coming to see you also, so good timing," Rick smiles. "You first – what's on your mind?"

"It's Gretchen," she tells him, and his face sinks as he slowly walks to a chair opposite the doctor, in front of her desk.

"Something is strange – something is off a little," she begins. "I spoke with Gretchen at length this morning. When we began to speak about what happened to her this morning, she landed somewhere along the lines of _'I don't remember what happened,'_ which is all right. Sometimes we kind of delete stuff we aren't ready to deal with."

Castle nods his head, knowing far more about that little topic than even the doctor in front of him realizes.

"However," she continues, "Gretchen also told me she wasn't sure she was even assaulted. And that is with the bruises along her shoulders, on her chest, on her stomach, and the pain she is obviously in," she says. "This bastard stayed low, under the clothes, so no one would notice."

Castle nods his head – this was something they noticed earlier this morning when Gretchen was registering and checking in. Those type of wounds indicate clear pre-meditated action on the part of the husband.

"Where is the problem?" Castle asks, wanting to get to it quickly.

"There may be no problem, Rick. I'm not sure," Dr. Peraza tells him. "But she said she wasn't even sure she was assaulted. Then she dropped the kicker, by saying she wasn't sure she was assaulted _by Mark_."

Castle nods his head, as if a few new pieces are falling nicely into place.

"Everything is fuzzy with her," the doctor continues. "Everything is fuzzy, and she doesn't remember. She just knows she hurts. Now, it is pretty common for an abused woman to defend her abuser, to even return to her abuser, or even say that her abuser didn't do anything."

Castle nods in agreement, again thankful for the alternative he is able to provide for these women.

"However, it isn't that common for an abused person to project her abuses elsewhere, or just not remember. Something just isn't right here," she concludes.

At this moment, Sara knocks on the door and walks in, with a couple of printed pages. Gretchen's profile. Castle smiles, and thanks the young woman as she leaves.

"What are you thinking, Rick?" Dr. Peraza asks.

"I'm thinking that I want to speak with Rhonda . . ." he pauses as he looks for her mother's name. "Martin. I'm thinking, Samantha, that I want to talk with Rhonda Martin. Gretchen's mother. Confirm a few things."

"Such as?" Samantha asks, as she runs a hand through her hair, settling back into her seat, leaning backwards. Trying to relax.

"Such as 'Why in the world did Rachel come live with her sister instead of staying with her mother?'", he muses aloud. "And second – was she aware – or _is_ she aware – of the domestic abuse going on at her daughter's home?"

Dr. Peraza simply glances at her friend before turning to pull up something on her computer. "Let me show you something," she says when they are interrupted by Castle's ringing cell phone.

"Hold that thought," he asks, as he notices the phone number to be the front gate for the complex.

"This is Castle," he says affably.

"Boss, we have a . . . we have a situation."

"What is it?" Castle asks, now beginning to get anxious. A 'situation' can be any number of things, and none of the good things are coming to mind right now.

"There is a Mark Harper here. He says he needs to speak specifically with you, and he is quite agitated."


	9. Chapter 9

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 9**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**Same Day, Colorado Springs Airport, 3:20 p.m. MST on Jan 16, 2012, **_

Rhonda Martin stands in the baggage claim area, waiting for the arriving passengers from San Francisco. Waiting for her oldest daughter, Gretchen.

Mark didn't say much on the phone earlier. He simply told her that there was something happening in San Francisco that he needed to take care of, and that he wanted Gretchen away – to make sure she was safe. That in itself tells her that Mark is in trouble, but he refused to go into details. No matter, Gretchen will answer everything once she is here.

Rhonda has three worries right now.

First, she has spoken with Gretchen numerous times in the past month, and never – not once – did her daughter give her even the slightest inclination that anything was even slightly wrong, much less anything remotely dangerous. So whatever is happening must be serious, and must have come up farily suddenly.

Second, the fact that it was Mark who called her, and not her own daughter, really has Rhonda on edge. If Mark is telling the truth, and Gretchen really is safe right now despite whatever is happening, then why didn't she call? Why was it Mark who called? Despite a fairly decent imagination, Rhonda has not been able to come up with a single comforting answer to this question. And that has unleashed her imagination to some pretty horrific conclusions and possibilities.

And third, if something is happening and he needed to get Gretchen out of there, to safety as he claims – then what about Rachel? What about her youngest daughter who is living with Mark and Gretchen? There was no mention of her, and when she tried to ask, Mark immediately cut the call short. Never a good sign.

So yeah, it is a fairly disconcerted Rhonda Martin, recently widowed and therefore all-to-aware of the surprises that life throws at us that stands fidgeting in the baggage claim area, her mind racing with negative thoughts, pacing a small ten-foot area, back and forth . . . back and forth . . . staring at the monitors, staring at the opening from the deplaning area.

As if on cue a group of passengers arrive at the waiting baggage claim carousels. One by one the passengers make their way past the increasingly anxious mother. Rhonda watches the endless reunions, filled with small embraces, handshakes, bear hugs, and welcome home kisses. With each passerby, her anxiety grows.

She continues to frantically search the faces that arrive, and then frowns suddenly. She blinks twice, to make sure that she really is seeing things correctly. Staring at her, walking quickly towards her, with a worried of her own look is the face of her daughter. Her youngest daughter, Rachel Harper.

_**Fifteen Minutes Earlier, at the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California, 2:05p.m. PST on Jan 16, 2012, **_

Mark Harper sits in Richard Castle's office in the administrative building at the safe complex, taking in his surroundings. As he has expected, his welcome committee here at the complex was slightly less than cordial, given what he knows they suspect about him. He watches as the obvious man-in-charge out here, Richard Castle, the ex-novelist no less, stands at the window, gazing out at the woods beyond the building. Every so often, Castle glances at him, but quickly glances away. The man is taller than he had imagined.

The tall, muscular black man with the military bearing is somewhat more intimidating. Mike Monroe is keeping close tables on Mark Harper, and Harper recognizes that he is likely on a very short leash with the security chief.

Suddenly, two women walk through the door, both with obvious military backgrounds as well.

"_This guy isn't taking any chances out here,"_ Harper thinks to himself.

"Okay, we have everyone here now," Castle says, pulling away from the window as he moves toward his desk. He sits his large frame on the corner of the desk, before continuing.

"So, Mr. Harper –"

"Mark," Harper corrects him, hoping to diffuse the tension in the room.

"Mr. Harper," Castle continues, undeterred. "So explain to us why you are here. And let me say right off, there is no way we are releasing your wife to you, so don't even go there."

Sighing with frustration, Mark Harper begins his defense in the informal court room that has just been convened.

"You don't understand – none of you do, I suspect," Harper says, running his hands through hair.

"We understand domestic violence quite well," Monroe states, matter-of-factly. Castle risks a quick gaze at his good friend. Of all of the people on staff here at the Castles, Mike Monroe is the one whose past has most clearly intersected with domestic violence. He takes each and every case a little more personally than the others. Castle sees it as both a blessing and a curse. Today, as he sits and watches his security chief coiled tightly – ready to strike – he is not sure which it is. Harper seems to instinctively recognize this, and shakes off a nervous shudder as he watches the security man eyes him warily.

"No," Harper counters. "That's just it. There is no domestic violence here. I didn't touch Rachel. I would never –"

"Save it, Harper," Lindy counters, as Dawn Harrison nods her head. "Gretchen is here, and trust me, her injuries – while not obvious, are clearly there.

"But I didn't do it," Mark pleads with the team in front of him, now getting a bit flustered. "I've been set up."

It is only because Richard Castle has been having second thoughts, only because of the nagging thoughts already whispering things in his ear that he offers a slight wave at his team to allow the despondent husband to speak.

"So talk," Castle says, somewhat harshly. "Who did this?"

"I would suspect Mara is behind all of this," Harper tells them, raising Castle's eyebrows.

"Mara Blankenship," Castle says, more as a statement than a question.

"That would be her," Harper tells him.

"Talk to me," Castle says, now standing up and walking around behind his desk to his chair. He sighs, as he sits down into the chair, placing his elbows upon the desk. For a moment, he wishes Kate were here to hear this story. No matter, he can bring her up to speed shortly.

"Where do I start?" Mark Harper asks, aloud, almost to no one in the room. "Gretchen and I are happily married," he begins, and immediately notices the frowns of disbelief in the room.

"Just hear me out, dammit," he says with frustration. He has tried to be a good husband, a good man to Gretchen. He's done all he can to show her how much he loves her, how he will do anything for her. Her sister needs a home?

"_No problem, she can come live with us, if that's what you need. Rachel's a good kid."_

He remembers the words he had spoken to Gretchen all those months ago – roughly a year ago now. At the time, he had no idea of the hell he was unleashing into his household. None of them could have foreseen this.

"Gretchen's dad died a little over a year ago," he begins, and by the look on Richard Castle's face, he realizes that this is not news to the man. Good. He knows that every single piece of truth he shares with them gets him a tiny step closer to them believing his admittedly fantastic story.

"_Let me help him put some of the pieces together,"_ he thinks to himself.

"For the longest time, Rachel blamed her mother. Rachel is an okay skier, while her father was pretty good – actually, more than pretty good."

Richard Castle listens attentively, his arms folded across his chest as he sits. So far, so good. This lines up with what he has heard from Mara.

"Anyway, there was an accident up on the slopes. From what Gretchen and I have pieced together - and understand, Rachel doesn't say much about this - it appears that her father had a heart attack while on the slopes, lost control and went over," Harper tells them. "Rachel blamed her mother. Said that she was always off shopping, always off with friends. Said that if her mom had been there, perhaps things would have gone down differently. I don't know how true that is or isn't, but Rachel is a teenager, and that's her reality."

Castle nods, and shares a glance with Mike Monroe, giving a subtle thumbs up to the security chief, letting him know that – at least so far – Castle is buying into what they are hearing.

"What does – or did – her mother say about all of this?" ask Dawn, who is now showing a wee bit of interest in this story.

"Not much," Harper answers. "You can imagine – whether Rachel is right or not – the mother has to feel a lot of guilt over what happened. She's lost her husband. She's dealing with that tragedy, and now her daughter is blaming her on top of everything else. Evidently both Rachel and her dad wanted the mom on the slopes with them that day, but she – indeed – opted to shop that day." Harper takes this moment to clear his throat.

"Can I get a glass of water?" Harper asks, suddenly, his throat parched.

"Sara, can you bring a few waters in, please?" Castle asks after buzzing his aide on the desk phone. Seconds later, a grateful Mark Harper begins to speak up, but is interrupted by Castle.

"Where is Rachel, Mr. Harper? We know you picked her up from the Blankenships, but you didn't take her to school this morning. There is an Amber Alert out of her, and a lot of us have been looking for her."

"She's in Colorado Springs with her mother," Harper answers, and would almost laugh at the stunned looks of surprise facing him.

"I put her on a plane this morning after I picked her up, and told her what was going on," he continues. "I needed to make sure she was safe. Once I knew Gretchen was safe here at your campus and Rachel was safe in Colorado, I knew I could come back out into public. So I came here."

Mike Monroe, Lindy Matthews and Richard Castle all find themselves exchanging glances with one another, while Dawn Harrison simply stares at the man telling the story.

"You sent Rachel to Colorado Springs," Castle states aloud, in disbelief.

"Impossible," Dawn counters. "There is an Amber Alert. There is no way TSA or anyone would let Rachel on a plane."

"As far as the airlines know, Gretchen Harper boarded a plane for Colorado this morning. Rachel is using Gretchen's passport," Mark explains. "Gretchen is seven or eight years older, but the resemblance is uncanny. Rachel is a younger version of my wife. We always keep our passports in the car, in case we wanted to go off somewhere at the spur of the moment. Every now and then, I like to surprise the girls, and we take off down to Mexico, or up to Banff National Park outside Calgary. I pack them a quick bag, pick them up and whisk them away."

Noticing the doubtful looks, Harper continues.

"Look, we like to travel to different places, and when the whim strikes, we like to get away. Gretch and I used to do this by ourselves before Rachel came. And we've done it a couple of times now with Rachel since she joined us," he tells them, glancing from face to face.

"Anyway, that's not important. What's important is that by using Gretchen's passport, Rachel was able to get away under the radar. Gretchen's passport is five years old, so the picture of Gretchen at 19 could easily pass for Rachel right now. And if you've ever seen Rachel . . . well, trust me, the girl could pass for twenty-three, twenty-four years old easily."

Castle nods. Despite his initial doubts, he cannot deny that as implausible as it sounds, this could work. His experience with liars who have alibis is that they stick fairly close to the truth, wanting the alibi to sound as realistic as possible. His experience is that people who weave such fantastic tales usually are spot-on accurate about what has happened.

"So Rachel is now in Colorado Springs with her mother," Castle begins, when he is interrupted by a ping on his cell phone. He cannot help but smile hearing Kate's ping tone, and glances down at his phone, opening the text message. He frowns initially, then offers a very slight smile, as he hands his phone to Mike Monroe. Monroe's eyes widen ever so slightly, then glance back knowingly at his boss.

_KATE: Just spoke with Rhonda Martin in Colorado. She is headed to airport – says Gretchen is on a flight to her. Not sure what this means, but she is calling back when the flight lands._

Monroe hands the phone back to Castle, who shakes his head, pointing to Lindy Matthews. Understanding, Mike turns and hands the phone to Lindy, knowing that she will share this with Dawn. Both women are reading the message when a second ping announces a second incoming text from Kate. Dawn walks toward his desk and hands the phone back to Castle, while an increasingly nervous Mark Harper fidgets. He desperately wants to know what is happening, but is smart enough not to ask, at this point.

Castle takes his phone back, and glances down at the second message, and smiles.

_KATE: Who is at the Castles? Is this Mistaken Identity?_

Yeah, from her vantage point, without the information being shared by Mark Harper, that is what it would likely look like to Kate. A woman shows up at their complex, claiming to be one person, when in fact that person is hundreds of miles away. Mistaken identity. He begins typing.

_CASTLE: We think it is Rachel headed to Colorado. Not Gretchen._

Knowing that Kate is going to have a myriad of questions running through her head, he decides to diffuse the potential confusing scenario and dials Kate up.

"One of our partners in the city," Castle tells Mark Harper in explanation, while the phone rings. Kate picks up on the second ring.

"Can't be Rachel, Castle. I spoke to her mother, and she clearly said she is picking up Gretchen," Kate begins as a greeting.

"Hold on," Castle tells her. "I am putting you on speakerphone, Kate." Making quick introductions, Castle brings Kate up to speed on the last few minutes of conversation with one Mark Harper. Kate, of course, is as stunned as anyone to discover that Harper has willingly traveled to the Castles – to talk. The story she hears, however, brings her to the same conclusion as Castle. Harper might be telling the truth because this is just too fantastic a story to make up and expect anyone to believe.

With Kate – and Detective Jennifer Blackard who is listening on Kate's end as she, too, has the call on speaker – now up to speed, Castle motions for Mark Harper to continue.

"So tell me, Mr. Harper," Castle begins, wondering about the one element of Harper's story that doesn't line up even in Castle's highly imaginative mind. "Why did you put Rachel on a plane, when all of the authorities are looking for her? Why not just turn her in."

Harper offers a sheepish, sad half-grin. Self-mockingly, he shakes his head in embarrassment.

"I panicked, okay?" he tells the room. "I picked up Rachel from Jimmy and Mara's house, as planned this morning, to take her to school. Once I got her, I called Gretch to let her know I had Rachel. But when I called Gretch, Mara answered. I immediately knew something was wrong."

"Why?" Mike asks.

"Because Mara is a psycho, that's why," Harper tells them. "Ever since we met her and Jimmy, she's been-"

"Ever since you met them? What does that mean?" Kate interrupts from the restaurant across the way in San Francisco.

"Gretchen and I didn't know the Blankenships until a year ago, when Rachel moved in with us. When Rachel started school, she met Sydney – Jimmy and Mara's daughter. They hit it off and started hanging together."

That lines up with what Mara Blankenship has already shared with Kate and Castle, so Castle encourages the man to continue.

"Go on," Castle says. "Mara is a psycho, and ever since you met her and her husband . . ."

"Ever since we met them, Mara's been kind of . . . kind of infatuated, kind of obsessed with me," Harper tells them. "She took a liking to me-"

He pauses, seeing the looks from the people in the room.

"Look, I swear, I didn't do anything to encourage her. I love my wife, I love my sister-in-law. They are my family. I wouldn't do anything to hurt them, to hurt that relationship."

Kate, on the other end of the phone, cuts him off, encouraging him to continue his story.

"Finish your story, Mr. Harper," she tells him. Kate is a good judge of character when it comes to criminal behavior, and her gut right now is telling her that Mark's story is consistent with the little character glimpses she got from her short time with Mara Blankenship. Imagining Mara as a jilted lover, or as a jilted pre-lover, which would be worse . . . yeah, she can see how this could have gone down.

"Mara would always flirt, come on to me. Very uncomfortable, because often Jimmy was there, and even Gretch. Gretch and I figured that maybe Mara and Jimmy were . . . I don't know, open, you know?"

Dawn can't stifle a noisy smirk, drawing a look from Lindy in the process. She shrugs her shoulders in defense, smiling back at her friend.

"Anyway, things started getting a little uncomfortable, and her advances started taking on a more aggressive tone. I told her time and time again I wasn't interested, but she would continue on – she would tell me that I'd come around over time."

"Did you say anything to Jimmy?" Castle asks.

"No. How can I? Hell, I'm no expert in this!" he exclaims, his voice rising in frustration. "This hasn't happened to me before. How do you approach a guy and tell him 'Hey dude, do something - your wife is hitting on me!'"

Castle and Mike Monroe both nod their heads ever so slightly, in understanding. That's a difficult conversation all right, one that could go a number of different ways, and most of them involving a punch or a shove.

"So, hold on," Castle tells him. "Let's back up a second. You said that you picked up Rachel, and were taking her to school." He pauses for confirmation, which Harper gives him.

"Yes," Mark says.

"On the way to school, you call your wife," Castle continues.

"Yes, I called Gretchen," Mark tells them.

"And when you called her, Mara is the one who answers Gretchen's phone."

"Yes."

"What did Mara say?" Kate asks from the speakerphone.

"She said that she and Gretchen were at the hospital," Mark says, his eyes both sad and full of fire simultaneously, recalling his conversation with Mara.

"She said that she and Gretchen were at the hospital, and that Gretchen had been in an accident, and that a husband should never physically assault his wife like that," he continues, rubbing his face with his hands in exasperation. "Then she said to me, 'I told you if I couldn't have you, Gretchen and Rachel wouldn't either.'"

With that, the chips begin to fall into place, both for Richard Castle at the complex in Sausalito, and for Kate Beckett at the restaurant off the Wharf area in San Francisco.

"Gretchen _and _Rachel?" Monroe asks with confusion on his face.

"Gretchen _and _Rachel," Harper repeats in confirmation. "Mara thought I had something with _both_ of them. She's a sick, sick creature, Mara is."

For both Castle and Kate, this is ringing true, both of them remembering Mara's statement that Mark and Rachel seemed very cozy in the car one day when he picked his younger sister-in-law up from their house. Could it be that Mara simply saw what her distorted reality showed her?

"I wasn't sure what to believe, what to do at this point," Mark tells them. "Then all of the sudden, on the radio in the car, we hear the emergency broadcast for an Amber Alert. And we hear them say 'Rachel Harper'. Hell, both Rachel and I freaked out at that," he tells them. "So now I know that Mara has Gretchen at the hospital, is telling everyone that I've assaulted her – and for some reason Gretchen isn't disputing that, so hell, I don't know if she is awake, conscious, alive . . ."

His voice trails off, momentarily. With every passing second, Richard Castle is beginning to find the man more and more credible.

" . . . I didn't know what was going on, if Gretch was okay or not . . . and then the Amber Alert comes on and –"

Suddenly, Kate interrupts.

"Guys, hold on a minute, Rhonda Martin is beeping in. I'd asked her to call me when she had picked up Gretchen . . . Rachel . . . whoever she has. Give me a second."

With that, Kate puts them on hold, taking the next call. It is quiet for the next half minute or so in Richard Castle's office at the safe complex. He takes the time to stare out his window, contemplating what they have just heard. Suddenly, Kate is back on the phone.

"Guys, I need to run – I'm on the phone with her – but it _is_ Rachel. It's Rachel in Colorado, and Rhonda seems as surprised as any of us."

Castle glances at Mark Harper, who simply holds his hands up, palms up.

"Now do you believe me?" Harper asks the room at large.


	10. Chapter 10

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 10**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**Same Day, San Francisco, California, 2:30 p.m. PST on Jan 16, 2012, **_

Kate Beckett sits on the short brick wall at McCormick and Kuleto's down at the Wharf, on the phone. Detective Jennifer Blackard sits next to her, taking in the conversation she has just heard between Kate and her friends across the bridge in Sausalito. She is not sure which is more surprising: the turn of events in this particular young case, or the fact that Kate doesn't seem the least bit fazed by these events. She idly wonders what type of cases Kate grew accustomed to back in New York over the years.

For her part, Kate is listening to young Rachel Harper rattle off her story. Once Rhonda Martin had dropped the bomb that it was Rachel - not Gretchen - that had arrived on the plane in Colorado, Kate immediately decided that it was the younger daughter – not the mother – who she really wanted to speak with.

"Quite a switch you and your brother-in-law have pulled here," Kate begins with the younger girl. "You have to understand how fantastic this sounds, and Rachel, when I say 'fantastic', I don't mean in the ooh-wow-positive way."

"I know," Rachel begins. "But once Mark and I heard the Amber Alert . . . well, after the threats that Mrs. Blankenship was making, Mark felt the best thing was to get me out of town, since she seemed to be threatening both Gretch and myself."

Kate nods, risking a glance at Jennifer, who is only half listening to the conversation via speakerphone. Instead, the detective is lost in her own thoughts, lost in potential 'next steps' she can take to either confirm or repudiate the current train of events.

"So, explain what happened," Kate tells her. She doesn't want to give any information that Mark has shared. Instead, she wants to see how close Rachel's story is going to be to her brother-in-law's story.

"Mark came to pick me up from the Blankenship's. He was taking me to O'Connell. That's my high school," the young girl begins, and Kate can tell this is going to be a long conversation. "On the way, he called Gretch just to let her know that we were on the way to school. Nothing major, just normal stuff. They call each other all the time, talking about nothing. I guess that's how married folks are."

Again Kate nods, but this time it is with more curiosity than anything else. Mark and Gretchen appear to be a nice couple, and Rachel's last words – unbeknownst to the teenager – have struck a chord with Kate, who has always wanted that kind of relationship with a man. A comfortable relationship where they can just talk – about anything and about nothing. Excitement is fine, sure, but there is something to be said about just being comfortable with someone. She realizes that is what she is developing with Richard Castle, and it forces a smile to her face.

"What?" Jennifer asks, wondering why the sudden happy face on her friend. Kate jars herself back to the present, shaking her head at her friend, and losing the smile.

"Anyway, Mark calls your sister, and –" Kate trails off, waiting for Rachel to continue.

"Yeah, Mark calls her, but it isn't Gretchen who answers. It's Mrs. Blankenship. It's Mara. She likes me to call her Mara. I'm not sure why. I mean, she's –"

"That's all right," Kate interrupts, trying to streamline the spew of words flowing from the young girl. "Tell me about the call, Rachel."

"Okay, okay, that's what I'm trying to do," Rachel tells her, a bit frustrated with the private investigator. "I could hear the entire conversation, because Mark had it on the car speaker. You know how these cars have Bluetooth and they let you talk and hear your music . . ."

Kate wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and pull the more pertinent facts out from the younger girl, but stops herself, realizing that if she really wants the truth, if she really wants all of the facts, then patience is – indeed – a great virtue when it comes to talking with Rachel Harper. She imagines herself back in an interrogation room with the young girl, and all of the sudden, her impatience fades. Now, treating this no differently than any normal interrogation, Kate sits back, more comfortably and casually, on the wall outside the restaurant.

". . . anyway, Mara tells Mark that she is at San Francisco General Hospital and that she has Gretch with her. She tells him that he should not have beaten Gretch up like that, and Gretch is lucky that she managed to call her before losing consciousness."

At the mention of San Francisco General, Detective Jennifer Blackard frowns, as she begins to do the math in her head. Kate is still unfamiliar with the city and doesn't recognize the significance of Rachel's statement. Mara Blankenship lives off Van Ness and California, between Nob Hill and Polk Gulch. San Francisco General is in the Mission District. So for Mark Harper's story to be true, Mara would have had to have left the house early in the morning to go to the Harper home in the Mission District, get Gretchen, take her to the hospital . . .

"She tells Mark that she has taken Gretch to General, and Gretch is going to be filing assault and battery charges against him. See, I know that is bogus, because Mark would never raise a hand to Gretch. Gretch could get away with anything with Mark – although she doesn't try, don't get me wrong, she's not that kind of person – but she could get away with anything and he'd never raise a hand to her. He's not that kind of guy," Rachel continues. "So then Mark tells her that's not true, and he asks he why she would make up a story like this, and then it hits Mark and me at the same time – I think, cuz we both kind of looked at each other, like a mind-meld or something – but we both realized that if Gretch is _at the hospital, _well then something is really wrong. Even if Mark didn't do anything, something is really wrong with Gretch, so we both got scared right then, wondering if Gretch was okay or not."

Kate continues to take in this conversation, but has also noticed that Jennifer has pulled up a city map on her cell phone, and is – by Kate's observation – plotting a travel route. Kate reaches over to touch her friend's shoulder, asking what she is doing, but Jennifer waves her off briskly, for the moment, mouthing the words 'Just a second'.

"Then Mara tells us that Gretch is in bad shape, and that she's being admitted, which freaked both of us out, I gotta tell you," Rachel continues. "Mark was really upset, as you can imagine, and he starts yelling at Mara, asking her what she is doing, asking her what she has done, because now it's pretty obvious that she has done _something_ to Gretch, I mean because Gretch is at the hospital and all, and Mara is making all these threats –"

"What threats?" Kate asks, trying to get the most important specifics out of the young girl.

"She told Mark that he should have been more receptive to her – that was the word she used, can you believe that? She told him that if she couldn't have him, then neither Gretch or I could either," Rachel says, and Kate can hear the derision in the young girl's voice. "I mean, shit, she is like talking from a bad movie script or something. Who talks like that? And then I realize that she said my name, too. She said 'neither Gretchen or Rachel can have you either'. What the hell? What makes her think I want Mark? I mean, Mark is nice and all, but he's my sister's husband for crying out loud. Plus he's kind of old. Why does she think I want him?"

Kate and Jennifer both struggle to contain the laughter threatening to explode from both of them at the young girl's reference to the young married man as 'kind of old'. Regardless, so far the young girl's story is lining up pretty much with Mark Harper's version, and Kate has no reason to doubt the veracity of the story, given the very liberal flow of information that Rachel shares with them. Information which continues to come.

"So now Mark knows that Gretch is probably hurt, and he looks at me and tells me that he has to get me out of there, in case Mara tries anything with me. I told him I wanted to go to General to see Gretch, to get her out of there, but he said that if Mara was telling the truth, then the hospital people would see him as a wife abuser, and he didn't want me around for that," Rachel tells her. "So I told him to send me home to mom, to Colorado, but to bring me back when everything was okay. Then we hear that Amber Alert, it came in on my phone, and it's my name, and Mara must have heard it too cuz she starts laughing real crazy like and telling Mark 'I told you so' and all, and then we realize 'whoa buddy the shit really has hit the fan', and that's when Mark hangs up, and then calls the airline. He told me to look in the glove compartment box and pull out Gretch's passport. He told me he was making a reservation for Gretch, but I was going to be the one to fly."

Kate nods in agreement, as all of this information is consistent with Mark's story, including using Gretchen's passport. Knowing there is an Amber Alert, the authorities were not going to let Rachel Harper board a plane. But Gretchen? There would have been no problem with that. Rachel wasn't going to be able to use her own ID, and since the airport only requires a picture ID and a boarding pass to get through security, Mark knew that a passport would qualify as a picture ID. And according to Mark, the resemblance between the two sisters was enough to pass a cursory inspection. So yeah, so far, all of this is lining up.

"So I take Gretch's passport and we head to the airport, and then Mark calls General –"

"Mark called the hospital?" Kate asks, for clarification.

"Yeah, he calls the hospital and asks for the emergency room. This was kind of smart by Mark. He's a quick thinker, always has been," Rachel says, smiling in obvious admiration that Kate cannot see. "He tells them he is Gary Martin, Gretchen's brother –"

"Does Gretchen have a brother?" Kate asks.

"No, that's the great part, isn't it?" the teenager laughs out loud. "He tells them he's her brother from Colorado, and that he has heard that Gretchen is there and that her husband may have hurt her. He then asks them not to release her to anyone – especially to Mara or Mark – he tells them that he is heading to San Francisco, but if they could either keep her in the hospital or if they could send her to a safe place until he arrived. That's when I remembered about those Castle places over in Sausalito. We were studying domestic violence in class last semester and talked about this place over there that was being built for battered women. I told Mark to have them send her there. Then he told them that she was still in danger, and needed to get out of there fast."

Kate nods, now realizing, first, why the Castles were called into this, and second, why the chopper went to pick up Gretchen, since that isn't standard procedure, but is reserved for still-dangerous situations. She makes a mental note to call the hospital to verify that a call was received by a 'Gary Martin'. If so, then she will ask Castle to verify that it actually came from Mark Harper's cell phone, since Mark is still out there at the complex. She makes a second mental note to check with Castle to verify that a call also went from Mark to Gretchen's phone number as well, and to make note of the times and call durations. Much of Rachel's story can be immediately repudiated if the calls or timelines do not add up. Kate wants to believe the young girl, she really does. But she has to make sure.

"So Rachel," Kate begins again, wanting one final piece of information from the teenager. "When I called your mother, it was clear that she was expecting Gretchen, not you. Why did you lie to your mother? Why not tell her it was you coming out to visit?"

"That was Mark's idea," Rachel admits. "Since there was an Amber Alert, he didn't want anyone, not even Mom, to know it was me. He figured that if Mom knew it was me, she'd tell someone, anyone, and if they found out about the alert, they might stop the flight, or something."

Kate considers this for a moment, and notices Jennifer nodding her head. Mark is no expert in these situations, so it probably seemed logical to him that if authorities realized Rachel was on the plane, they might stop it, divert it, whatever. Then Rachel's final words - an admission of sorts - closes the deal for Kate.

"Besides, Mom and I . . . we haven't been on the best of terms," Rachel adds. "Mark figured if Mom thought it was Gretch coming out here, it would be easier." Kate can almost feel the look being exchanged out in Colorado by a mother and a young daughter, and the words leave Kate's mouth before she can think about them.

"Rachel, you've been very helpful. We're going to help your sister, I promise," she tells her, and then adds, "And Rachel – you only have one mother. Fix that."

With that, Kate hangs up, and stares at her friend next to her.

"Sounds about right to me," Jennifer states before Kate can ask the question, and Kate can only nod her head before she glances back down at the phone, ready to dial Castle's number. She stares for a moment, and then punches in his contact information.

"Let's head to General," she says, "and then back out to the Castles. I told Gretchen I wouldn't be back until I had Rachel safe and sound – well this is close enough."

The phone rings twice before Castle picks up.

"Hi Kate," he answers. "What did you find out from Gretchen's mother?"

"Better than that," she tells him. "I spoke at length with Rachel herself. Everything she said seems to support Mark's story."

_**Minutes Later, at the Castles in Sausalito, California, 2:45 p.m. PST on Jan 16, 2012, **_

Richard Castle considers the latest information Kate has just shared, pondering his next step. Mark Harper sits – not so calmly – here in his office. It's clear that the man wants to see his wife. He's driven all the way out here. Kate, in just a couple of minutes, has regurgitated her conversation with Rachel Harper to him – minus the colorful additions and musings of the young girl, of course.

"Mr. Harper, can I see your phone for a moment?" Castle asks the man. "There are a few things I'd like to do to verify your story," he tells him.

"Sure," Mark Harper replies, handing his phone across the desk. "Anything."

Castle goes to the Recent Calls and glances at the calls made this morning, jotting down the number called, the time and the call duration. As Kate has suggested, they will check into these numbers to collaborate Mark's – and Rachel's – stories.

He suddenly stands up, glancing at Harper.

"Give me a second, Mr. Harper," he says calmly, returning his phone to him, while giving Mike Monroe a quick look that tells him not to let the man leave. Mike nods in understanding as Castle makes his way out of his office, and down the hall. He stops at Dr. Samantha Peraza's office door and knocks quickly, smiling at her predictable greeting.

"Enter or go away, but –"

"Do either quickly," Castle says, smiling as he interrupts her, opening the door and walking in. "I know the drill, Samantha."

The doctor smiles at her long-time friend, brushing her hair out of her face.

"What can I do for you, Rick?"

Castle begins to explain – in great detail and with great animation – what has turned out now to be a real whodunit of a case. He rehashes his conversation with Mark, Kate's conversation with Rachel, while Samantha listens intently.

"What I want to know, Samantha, is this: Can I let Mark see his wife? I mean, if he is an abuser, then obviously not – our protocol dictates that Gretchen has to agree - in writing - before we let anyone past the administration building. But in this case, I'm not sure – I mean, you said yourself that Gretchen now is saying she isn't sure she was even assaulted – or assaulted by Mark - even though she's in pain and has bruises."

Thinking it over, Dr. Peraza comes to a quick decision.

"Let's do a little experiment," Dr. Peraza tells him, standing up and walking to the door, beckoning Castle to follow her. They walk down the hall and out the back door towards the safe homes as she gives quick instructions to Castle. Minutes later, they stand in front of Gretchen Harper's new temporary home.

"Remember, let me do the talking," Dr. Peraza tells him. "Stand behind me, and just watch her reaction to everything."

The doctor raps hard, three quick knocks in succession, on the door. A few seconds later, Gretchen answers, opening the door for her guests.

"Doctor?" Gretchen asks, not quite remembering the doctor's name.

"Peraza," the doctor responds, getting a head nod from the woman.

"That's right, Dr. Peraza. I'm sorry," Gretchen tells her, "but everything is still a little fuzzy."

"Getting better though?" Dr. Peraza asks.

"Yes, a little," Gretchen admits, and then realizes that her two guests are standing outside. "Come in, come in," she tells them, opening the door wider. She smiles at the doctor, and at Castle, recognizing now who he is.

"Gretchen, I will be quick about this," Dr. Peraza begins. "Your husband, Mark, is here at the complex. We have him detained in the admin building. He wants to see you. I want to know how you feel about that."

The reaction from Gretchen is immediate, and a bit surprising.

"Yes!" she exclaims. "Where is he? I want to –"

She tails off, just as quickly, now confused.

"No, he . . . he hit me," she says. "He hurt me . . . didn't he? I'm not sure. Oh God, what is wrong with me?"

Dr. Peraza assesses the situation and then makes up her mind, staring at the woman in front of her whose confusion is heart-breaking. Castle has taken a step back, wrestling with his emotions as well, as his heart goes out to the young woman. Clearly something has happened to her, and clearly she has no real recollection. Samantha Peraza voices his thoughts, in a question for the woman.

"Gretchen, don't be alarmed, but I'd like for us to take a urine sample and a blood sample from you," she tells the woman. "I suspect you may have been drugged, and if that is the case, I'd like to get this done before it gets completely out of your system."


	11. Chapter 11

**Out of the Forest and Into the Woods: Chapter 11**

**DISCLAIMER:** None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

_**The Next Day, Sausalito, California, 2:30 p.m. PST on Jan 17, 2012, **_

Mark Harper stands at the guard house, waiting for the electronic gate to open. He sees Richard Castle walking toward the gate from the large administrative building, where he visited with the staff just yesterday. As much as he wanted to see Gretchen, the staff decided, in the end, to hold off on any direct communication between Mark and his wife, until her drug test results came back. They had promised to rush things as much as possible, however, getting a result in 24 hours.

So, here he is again, now roughly 24 hours later, wanting to see his wife, wanting to get her out of here. He's grateful that they took her in, and kept her safe, but now wants her out.

Castle nods at Jerry, the security guard at the gate, who opens the gate, allowing Mark Harper inside. Castle immediately reaches out to shake his hand in greeting. This is definitely a change from yesterday's greeting, and Mark is hoping this is the first of good things this afternoon. He is not disappointed.

"Gretchen's tests turned out positive for Rohypnol," Castle begins in greeting. "That explains a lot."

"Okay, I'm not a doctor. I'm not a pharmacist, so what you just said tells me nothing," Mark states with a bit of frustration as the two men walk towards the administration building. "What does that mean?"

"It means that Gretchen was drugged with . . . well, basically a form of a date rape drug," Castle says warily. This is both good news and bad news for the husband. Good news in that it moves a step closer to validating his story. Bad news in that – well, is it ever really good news to learn that your wife has been drugged?

"You can't be serious," Mark says, incredulously.

"It explains the memory loss that Gretchen is experiencing. It explains why she doesn't remember, why she isn't sure what happened to her," Castle continues, knowing how difficult this information is for her husband to process. Indeed, he can feel the man tensing next to him, as a range of emotions rush forward. All of those emotions go on hiatus, however, as Castle opens the door to the administration building and Mark Harper finds his wife sitting in the lobby. Their eyes find each other almost immediately, and just as quickly, Gretchen Harper is on her feet, limping toward her husband. Seconds later, they are in an emotion-filled embrace.

The tears . . . no, not the tears. It is the haunting sob that escapes Mark Harper's lips as he embraces his wife that causes a shudder inside Castle, who glances over at Kate Beckett and Dr. Samantha Peraza still sitting in the chairs next to the now empty chair once occupied by Gretchen Harper. It is clear that a myriad of emotions previously held in check are now flooding out for both the husband and wife.

Kate exchanges a wistful look with Castle, as they watch the reunion unfolding in front of them. For Mark and Gretchen, it is a surreal moment in what has been an unbelievable twenty-four plus hours. Castle shakes his head as he realizes this entire affair with the Harpers began just yesterday – at least the portion that includes Gretchen's involvement with the Castles complex. It's becoming more apparent that this is something that has been going on – been planned – for some time – by someone. However, today Mark Harper is dealing with guilt, and not very well at that.

He is crying, inconsolable as he feels that he has let his wife down. The pain he sees in her eyes – and more, the fear he sees in her eyes. A fear – possibly - of him.

"We took vows," he says between sobs. "I swore to protect you. Now look at you. This is my fault."

"It's not your fault, Mark," she tries to tell him, her tears streaming down her face as she holds on tightly to her husband. "It's . . . it's no one's fault. It . . . it just is."

"I let you down," he continues, shaking. "I'm so sorry, Gretch."

His despair walks a tight line between sadness and fury. Yeah, he is angry right now. He is not a violent man. At least not until this moment today. Fortunately, Dr. Samantha Peraza chooses this moment to interrupt the reunion – most likely to head off any further breakdown in the man in front of her.

"Mr. Harper . . . Gretchen, let's go to my office," she tells them. We have much to discuss, as she extends a hand to the husband and wife, guiding them toward the door.

A minute later, the couple is gone, walking down the hallway with Dr. Peraza, leaving Castle and Kate alone with Colin Alexander. Mike Monroe and Dawn Harrison are walking the grounds, on a security run, and will be back shortly. Lindy Matthews is in, even though it is her day off. She is overseeing maintenance on the chopper in the hangar.

"What did you find out Colin?" Castle asks the ex-military man.

"Most of it was Dawn," Alexander admits as he begins. "She verified with the hospital that a 'Gary Martin' – who we now know does not exist – called the San Francisco General Hospital emergency room yesterday morning, claiming to be Gretchen's brother. He asked that Gretchen be moved here to the Castles."

Glancing directly at Kate, Colin continues his report, addressing Beckett directly.

"Consistent with your conversation with the younger sister, he asked that Gretchen not be released to either her husband, or one Mara Blankenship, for fear of her continued safety. We also verified that a call was placed from Mark Harper's cell phone to San Francisco General at this same time, so we can be reasonably certain that, as the younger sister indicated, Mr. Harper did in fact call the hospital impersonating Gretchen's brother . . . who, once again, does not exist."

Castle and Kate nod their heads in agreement simultaneously. So far, so good.

"I traced Mara Blankenship's movements – as best I could – starting yesterday morning," Kate Beckett continues. "There is no building surveillance at the Harper residence, but I was able to use street surveillance videos to pick up Mara Blankenship's car heading south from their home just off California Street. This was at 6:45 in the morning. All we can tell is that she traveled south – so we can insinuate that she might have gone to the Harper residence in the Mission District. She certainly wasn't traveling north or northwest towards her job down at the Wharf."

"And not at that time of the morning," Castle adds.

"True," Kate agrees. "Jennifer was able to get a search warrant for the Harper household, and let's just say the house was in a state of disarray."

"Meaning?" Castle asks.

"Meaning, it looked as though there had been an altercation. A lamp was knocked over, there were some dishes and glasses knocked over. The interesting thing, though, was that Jennifer stated that –"

"Where is Detective Blackard anyway?" Castle interrupts. He is surprised that the detective is not here.

"She's at work, Castle," Kate smiles. "She has her own cases, her own jurisdiction to worry about. She was literally just helping out on her day off yesterday."

Castle and Colin Alexander both nod in understanding, as Kate continues.

"Anyway, she made a point of saying that the entire altercation thing looked staged. Meaning, nothing was consistent with spontaneous actions. It didn't look like the lamp was knocked over, it looked more like the lamp was placed on the floor, staged to look like it was knocked over. Same with the dishes and glasses. This was a mistake on our perpetrator's part. When I say glasses, I mean glass glasses, not plastic ones. The fact that these glasses hit the floor – theoretically – but none broke upon impact, the fact that the lamp shade was barely tussled – all of these point to a staging."

"Here is what we also have found out," Colin tells them. "With her permission, I took a look at Gretchen Harper's phone. There is a call from Gretchen to Mara Blankenship's cell phone yesterday morning at 7:30. Gretchen does not remember making this phone call. Mark has indicated that he left the house yesterday right around 7 a.m. So it appears – by our hypothesis – that Mara may have left her place around 6:45 and just stuck around the Harper home until Mark had gone to work, and she was sure he was not coming back."

"Mark also indicated that Gretchen was supposed to pick up a 9 a.m. shift at the hospital," so that explains why he was picking up Rachel instead of her," Castle adds.

"Jennifer also found two cups of coffee – styrofoam cups," Kate adds, continuing her findings from yesterday. "We are testing right now to see if we can find a match the same drug found in Gretchen's system to one of the cups. We're also dusting for prints as well, although she did say that a preliminary look didn't turn up anything. So we can assume that Mara – or whoever was there – was wearing gloves. Smart on her part."

"All indicating premeditation," Colin adds, and Kate nods in agreement.

"The important thing is that Gretchen does not remember making the call. Now, that can be for one of three reasons. A, she is lying about not remembering – which I think we can all safely rule out," Kate says, and both Colin and Castle agree.

"B, she made the call but does not remember because of the drug," Kate continues, drawing a frown from both men. It is a possibility they have to consider.

"And finally, C, she doesn't remember because she didn't make the call. Her intruder – presumably Mara – made the call on her behalf."

"So in that case," Castle steps in, "Mara would have drugged Gretchen, then placed a call from Gretchen's phone to Mara's phone, and just left the connection open for a minute or so. Long enough to simulate Gretchen making a frantic call for help, because she has just been assaulted by her husband."

So far, everything is playing out as she and Castle and Jennifer had expected. But Kate has one final card left to play, and it's an important one. She really hates doing this, but they have to know. She reaches into her purse, and Castle knows full well what she is getting ready to retrieve. Castle walks out of the room, down to Samantha Peraza's office to momentarily retrieve the husband once more.

Meanwhile, Kate pulls out a thumb drive – the same thumb drive that Jennifer had confiscated from Brinkman Brothers – from Mark's desk. She holds the thumb drive in her hand, in plain sight, as Mark Harper returns with Castle a moment later. She makes a fairly elaborate show to make sure that Mark sees this drive, and then simply says "Not knowing your involvement yesterday, Mr. Harper, we obtained a search warrant to search your work place."

Mark Harper cocks his head slightly, in confusion, and that is enough for both Castle and Kate, who were reluctantly looking for a more guilty or concerned reaction. The fact that the thumb drive has drawn no response other than a confused look is another in a line of good news for them this morning. "There are some . . . interesting things on this drive," Kate adds, inserting it into her laptop and moving her screen so that Mark can see. Seconds later, nude and half nude pictures of Rachel Harper pop up, much to Mark Harper's disgust and horror.

"What the hell is this!?" he thunders, grabbing the laptop from Kate's lap, then quickly half tossing it back to her.

"Who did this?! Who took these?! Christ Almighty, what the hell is going on here!"

Kate quickly shuts the laptop down. She and Castle have their answer – unless he is a giving an Oscar-worthy performance, this is a huge surprise to Mark Harper; one he is not taking very well. Then it hits him. Hard.

"Wait a minute! You found this at my work? In my desk?" Harper explodes. "Dammit, what is going on here!?"

Suddenly he reaches for the laptop, going for the thumb drive.

"Give that to me," he yells angrily. "You cannot go showing that to people. This is my wife's baby sister, for crying out loud."

"This is evidence in an ongoing investigation now –"

"Bullshit! These are naked pictures of Rachel. She would die – _absolutely die_ – if anyone saw these. Hell, Gretchen will . . ."

His voice trails off, as he steps backward, stumbling. Fortunately, Richard Castle has remained close by, purely for observational purposes, and catches him before he falls further.

"Oh God . . . what is going on here?" he says softly, now fully defeated. He looks up from Castle to Kate with saddened eyes.

"A pretty insidious plan, that's what," Kate tells him, and she can feel her own anger rising now. All fingers are pointing at Mara Blankenship right now, and although Kate is 99 percent sure the woman is behind all of this, she also knows that she – and Detective Jennifer Blackard and Richard Castle have all already jumped to the wrong conclusion once in this case. So yeah, she's pretty certain of what happened, but wants one more piece of evidence – circumstantial as it may be – to nail the coffin shut. Evidence that should now be on visible on Gretchen Harper's body.

"Come with me," Kate tells the three men, who dutifully follow her down to Dr. Peraza's office where the doctor is still talking with Gretchen. They enter the office without knocking, and Kate immediately walks to the chair next to Gretchen – in front of Dr. Peraza's desk – and sits across from the woman.

"Can I help you Kate?" Samantha asks, glancing at all four visitors now. She had expected Mark to return, but alone.

"This will only take a minute, Dr. Peraza," Kate tells her, as she reaches down for Gretchen's leg. "Gretchen, let me see your leg, your foot," she tells her.

The confused woman complies, slightly lifting her left leg off the ground so that Kate, sitting across from her, can grab it. As soon as Kate grabs her ankle, intentionally putting a little more pressure than necessary on it, Gretchen winces in pain. Kate smiles, nodding her head. Pulling up the woman's jeans she finds a couple of nasty bruises on the side of her shin to go with the bruise on her ankle. Kate repeats the exercise on the right leg, finding only a bruise of the back of the ankle.

"What is it, Kate?" Castle asks, now fully wondering what his partner has discovered.

Kate stands up, motioning Mark Harper to take the seat she has just abandoned.

"You probably want to sit down, Mr. Harper," she tells him. "I think I have a good idea – a hypothesis, really – of what happened to your wife," she finishes, glancing at an equally confused Gretchen.

"There are bruises on the back of your leg and foot, Gretchen. Those are bruises consistent with someone being dragged down a flight or two of stairs. Had your husband been there, and assaulted you as Mara Blankenship claimed, and as you originally claimed, and had your husband brought you to the hospital, he would have carried you down the stairs. You live in a flat, on the third floor. We all struggled with the logic that Mark assaulted you and then decided to take you to the hospital. I find that hard to believe. However, let's say that's how it went down –"

"That's not –"

She stops Mark Harper's interruption, holding up her hand.

"I know that's not what happened, Mr. Harper. I know that now. But let's just say for the sake of argument that it _did_ happen that way," Kate continues. "Let's say that you assaulted Gretchen, but then had a change of heart and decided to take her to the hospital. You are a big man, Mr. Harper, large enough to carry your wife down two flights of stairs. You wouldn't have just dragged her down the steps. But the bruises on her ankles and shin tell me that is exactly what happened. That's how a smaller, weaker person who couldn't pick Gretchen up would have done it."

"Mara," Castle says, whistling in admiration.

"She couldn't carry Gretchen, not down from the third floor. So she drugged your wife, and then placed more than a few well-aimed shots to her belly, to her chest. But it seems she only hit her once in the face. Castle, you might recall that Mara is somewhat of a small woman," she tells her partner, who nods in recollection. "When we were interviewing her, I noticed a few things about her. Just years of NYPD training and experience, I guess, but I found myself glancing at her hands, at her arms, her build. I didn't suspect anything at the time. It's just my normal way of doing things."

Castle and Colin nod their heads – and Colin, in particular, appreciates the discipline in the former detective that carried over even now.

"Anyway, I noticed a small mark – it didn't mean anything to me until we started suspecting Mara – on her right hand. Even if she wore gloves not to leave finger prints, she underestimated how hard a person's head or cheek is. Many people have found out after slugging someone in the head how hard that bone is," Kate continues, almost chuckling now, as is Colin Alexander.

"I believe that Mara's first punch was to your unconscious head, Gretchen," Kate continues. "And I think she probably hurt her hand a bit, and decided to focus on softer areas thereafter. Hence the heavy bruising on your belly, on your chest and ribs."

Kate looks directly at Mark Harper as she continues.

"It's pretty apparent that she worked your wife over, Mr. Harper. Pulling up Gretchen's blouse – with her permission – she points to the bruises there, much to the horror of the husband.

"Notice the bruises all along here . . . and here," she says, pointing to different spots. "This was a pretty angry woman at work here."

His eyes moist with anger, Mark Harper recounts, softly but out loud, the threat that Mara had shared with him yesterday morning.

"_If I can't have you, neither will Gretchen or Rachel."_

"Seems that way," Kate agrees, softly, knowing that at any moment either Gretchen or Mark is going to lose it. She needs to finish this, and get into the city to question Mara Blankenship – for all the good it will likely do. The woman was careful, not using her own phone except to receive a call, wearing gloves, not using public transportation, not calling an ambulance. Her hypothesis is solid, but she recognizes the evidence to be highly circumstantial. And Mara doesn't seem to be the type who will break under interrogation.

"So Mara – for reasons that we can only assume involve jealousy and anger that her advances to you, Mark, were unrequited, came up with this plan to hurt you, Gretchen, and hurt your sister, while blaming Mark. She-"

"What did she do to Rachel?" Gretchen barks, suddenly full of fire and energy. "You promised my sister was okay, you said –"

"She is okay, she is fine, Gretchen," Kate tells her.

"She's with your mother, Gretch," Mark says softly. "I put her there myself,"

"Gretchen nods slowly. Kate and Castle had told her that Rachel was indeed in Colorado, but hearing that she actually was in danger also awakened the older sister a bit, snapping her out of her doldrums. Kate decides to continue, knowing the additional pain that is coming for the couple.

"So – continuing – Mara drugs you, assaults you while you are unconscious and then calls herself from your phone, feigning a call for help. She then waits fifteen or twenty minutes, knowing that Mark is picking up Rachel, so you won't be back," she says looking at Mark.

"She knows the drug has kicked in and you won't be awake for a while, so she has time to spare. She stages the family room so that it looks like a fight has occurred. Then she probably tries to pick you up, unsuccessfully. So she drags you, literally hitting your legs along the stone steps down each flight, which caused your bruises. I noticed you limping this morning, Gretchen, and when you went to embrace your husband, you were still limping. That's what set my final thoughts in motion."

Kate turns to Rick with a warm smile, as she continues.

"Castle has taken me to enough homes just to show me architecture, just so I can get some decorating ideas out here, and one of the first things I noticed was that all of the entries to the flats are from the outside. In New York, most are indoors, and the stairs are wood. Here, the stairs are stone. I know that because –"

"You banged the side of your ankle on the house on 19th Avenue that I took you into over the holiday," Castle suddenly remembers. "Wow."

"Yeah, who knew that a banged ankle could help me turn this case," Kate chuckles. Gretchen and Mark, however, fail to see the humor, and Kate quickly changes gears, continuing.

"Anyway, she gets you to the bottom of the stairs and into her car," Kate says. "The only hope we have to prove this, of course, is if any of the neighbors or passersby saw anything," she says dejectedly.

"Still, continuing, she gets you into the car, and drives you to San Francisco General. She parks a block away, and then gets you out of the car, dragging you again to the front entrance, where she tells the staff that Mark had ceremoniously dumped her a block away from the hospital. About that time, you must have started to awaken, Gretchen and –"

"Yes, you're right," a slightly more focused Gretchen Harper agrees. "I remember her dragging me on the street leading up to the emergency room, and I remember her telling me that you had just dropped me off on the curb," she finishes, looking at her husband. "She told me that I had called her, and she had gotten there as Mark was driving me away, so she followed, calling my phone to see if I was okay."

"And your phone indicates a couple of missed calls from Mara Blankenship's phone about that time, to collaborate her story," Colin Alexander adds. "That explains those missed calls. Neither Dawn nor I could figure those out."

Castle and Kate nod, again realizing how long this must have been planned on Mara Blankenship's part.

"So Mara takes you into the emergency room, and gets you admitted, but she keeps your phone, Gretchen. She knows that Mark will probably be calling – if for no other reason than to just let you know that he has Rachel, from what Rachel has told us."

Both Mark and Gretchen nod in agreement, as Kate again continues.

"To the outside world, Mara appears to be the great friend and a solid citizen, coming to the rescue of an abused friend," Kate says, the disgust rising in her voice and framing the normally beautiful features on her face. "None of what we have just speculated can be proven without fingerprints, surveillance, or an eye witness – none of which I expect to see."

"So she gets away with it?" Mark thunders in frustration. "What about her phone call to me? Rachel was there and she can –"

"It's her word against yours, I'm afraid. We have everything except evidence, Mark," Kate tells him, honestly.

"There has to be something – anything," Castle muses aloud.

"No, there isn't. Right now we just have to be satisfied with the fact that Gretchen is safe, Rachel is safe, the Amber Alert has been cancelled and Mark, you will be absolved of any involvement. Right now, for now, that has to be enough," Kate says.

"But we aren't finished digging," Castle says, expectantly.

"No, we aren't," Kate agrees. "Jennifer, in fact, thinks there is far more to this than we are seeing right now. She's a native here and understands the market, the real estate market and neighborhoods," Kate says with a wry smile.

"When I told her where the Blankenship's live, her first thought was to wonder where they are getting the money to live in that area. She mentioned that this area requires more than the salary of a bus driver and a tourist retail agent. And if they had family money, then they probably would have different jobs to begin with."

"Hmmm," Castle says, now smiling himself. "If nothing else, it gives us a reason to continue . . ."

His words drop off, as he realizes that neither he nor Kate can really open a case, or continue investigating this. She's not a cop anymore. Sensing his thoughts, Kate interrupts.

"But Jennifer can, Castle," she smiles. "Jennifer can. It's out of her jurisdiction, but she knows a couple of people at the other precinct there to keep an eye on this. For now, it will have to be enough."

"So what now?" Mark Harper asks, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Now," Dr. Samantha Peraza states, "now you get to take your wife home."

_**Epilogue 1: Colorado Springs, Colorado, Jan 24, 2012 **_

Mark and Gretchen Harper sit at a table next to the window at the Applebee's restaurant off Garden of the Gods and I-25 in Colorado Springs. It's been a week since the life-changing events in San Francisco, and the couple had decided to take an unplanned retreat to Gretchen's mother's home. So far, it has been a pleasant experience.

Rachel and her mother have had a reconnection of sorts. Traumatic events have a way of erasing misunderstandings and miscommunications. Rachel has enrolled back in school in Colorado, leaving the Bay Area and those memories behind her.

Mark and Gretchen, for their part, have decided, just this morning, to stay here in Colorado themselves. Gretchen can get a nursing job pretty much anywhere and isn't expecting a problem on the job front. Mark, always good in sales, is considering opening his own business here. All they know is that they aren't returning to San Francisco. The fact that their wounds are still fresh, and the fact that the cause of their wounds is still walking free in California are enough reasons to keep them from returning.

Mark smiles, as he holds his wife's hand, knowing that somehow they have escaped one of life's potential death traps, and have been granted a second chance.

The tall majestic range of mountains has never looked – and smelled – so good.

_**Epilogue 2: San Francisco, California, 1 a.m. Jan 25, 2012**_

Jimmy Blankenship drives the large MUNI bus along the midnight route, glancing at his watch. 1:01 in the morning, he smiles as he pulls the bus to the street corner and stops, hitting the button to open the large doors.

A young woman, college age, she looks to be 19 or 20, boards the bus and walks toward the back. Jimmy follows her motion, watching the sway of her hips in the large rear view mirror as she stops at the third row from the back of the bus, and sits by herself. She pulls out a can of coke from her backpack and begins sipping on the drink that she picked up minutes ago at the all-night convenience store at the very corner she has just boarded the bus.

The large beast rumbles forward, picking up steam as it heads down the mostly empty street. The newest passenger continues sipping her drink, paying no attention to the figure in the dark hoodie, face covered by the hood that sits in the very last row up against the rear wall of the bus. She had noticed the man in the hoodie, whose head kept dropping off, with a slight snoring coming from under the hood, as she walked toward the back.

She, however, does not notice the figure slowly rise up and move to the seat right behind her. She does not notice the needle that drives into the spot between her shoulder and her neck until she feels the prick. But now it is too late, as she is out cold in seconds as the hooded figure now slides in next to her, pushing her toward the window on the seat.

A few stops later, the final two passengers still onboard, near the front of the bus both disembark, leaving only Jimmy Blankenship, the unconscious girl and the figure next to her. Jimmy puts the bus back into motion, changing the sign up top to read 'OUT OF SERVICE' and rumbles further ahead for another couple of minutes before stopping again.

This time, two men board and walk directly back to the hooded figure and the unconscious girl. The hooded figure stands up as the men board, and returns to the spot on the back of the bus, while one man sits next to the unconscious girl and the other sits across the aisle. The bus continues for five more streets before stopping again – this time more or less in the middle of an opening between a two large residential buildings. The two men rise and grab hold of the young woman and carry her upright off the bus and to a waiting SUV, away from the surveillance cameras.

The bus doors close as Blankenship puts the large vehicle into motion once again, as he flips the sign once more, now putting the bus back into service mode, ready to pick up more passengers on this late night shift.

Driving away, he smiles at the hooded figure that has left the back of the bus once again, this time to sit directly behind him. The hood drops away, revealing Mara Blankenship, who places her hand along the railing behind Jimmy.

"She's a pretty one, that one," Jimmy says.

"Of course you'd say that," Mara says with disgust. "You always liked them younger. Shit, you could have ruined everything, turning the police on to us with those stupid pictures of Rachel. You just couldn't help yourself, could you?!"

"I know, I know," he agrees. "Not my smartest move, but, hey, you made it work. You always do. Anyway, we wouldn't have had to worry about the police in the first place if you could have kept your eyes off Mark Harper," he says, smiling with a bit of menace to her in the rear view mirror.

"So we both have our little weaknesses," she admits, and then grows quiet for a few seconds before continuing.

"Donovan will like this one, though," she muses aloud.

"Oh yeah, he will like her all right. Blonde, young look, nice ass, long legs . . ."

"You noticed all of that in just the few seconds it took for her to get on the bus," Mara half spits out, but then recomposes herself. Jimmy allows his wife her transgressions, and so she will overlook his tendencies with younger women.

"No matter, Mara. She'll be on the boat to Playas de Rosarito by the weekend," Jimmy tells her.

"And we will have our money transferred to us within the week upon delivery," Mara smiles. "The men down south of the border will enjoy her."

**A/N:** This concludes this story, and as you can see, we will probably see more of Mara and Jimmy Blankenship in a future story in this AU. And as you can see, Rick and Kate's world is going to intersect with some nefarious characters here on the west coast, and cases are not so easily wrapped up in a tight bow. The next story is already storyboarded, and I will start writing it in a while after I focus on The Long Game for a while. As always, thank you for reading and dropping your comments and ideas.


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